


Everything is Borrowed

by Scrabble



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Bodyguard AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Eggsy is a Little Shit, Eggsy is a megastar, Fluff, Gratuitous use of British swear words, Harry is a muppet, M/M, Merlin is grumpy, Romance, Roxy is a BAMF, The Musician AU no one wanted, brief mentions of past domestic abuse, bunch of swearing, loads of social media, yeah i went there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrabble/pseuds/Scrabble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A.K.A. "But I stopped sharking for a minute to get chips and drinks."<br/>Once upon a time, a world famous record producer with mystique and a stupid name came across a lad with an equally stupid name, busking outside Tottenham Court Road tube station and made him a star of epic proportions. That was two albums ago and this is the story of how that lad, now stupid famous and loving his world, thanks very much, came to have a bodyguard. Not JUST a bodyguard, but one that wears proper nice suits and distracts him a lot while he's trying to get Merlin off his back about that bloody third album he should be writing. Oh yeah, and there's the worlds most awesome P.A. too, but she pretty much could take them all, so they have to say that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty so, I was enabled right into this. You know who you are...
> 
> Both the real title and the AKA one are lyrics by The Streets, who I can only recommend thoroughly! Others you may wish to look up for reference on this whole concept include Cosmo Jarvis doing "No Way To Spend A Saturday" on YouTube, Amy Winehouse's entire back catalogue and The Platters "Only You".
> 
> The tags will change as more chapters are added, as usual and frankly, this one rather got away with me?! All I can say is that I am from London and as a result, those of you who aren't British may require some assistance from the ubiquitous Urban Dictionary and/or a Brit to translate sections of this! I think it just took on a life of it's own somewhere around the moment I realised I'd known a lot of musicians and people in the industry like this, so it seemed like a happy place for me to write heheh :-)
> 
> For Bruce and C.H.A. You pushy wenches.

The crowd were, as usual, going batshit out front.

Hidden away in the wings of the stage, Eggsy gave himself a minute or two to bounce on the balls of his feet, loosening himself up both physically and mentally because god knew he was gonna need to be chilled to get through a show this size. Physically it’d be alright, he was in pretty good nick, for once he’d actually got a decent nights kip on the tour bus over from wherever the fuck they were yesterday, but mentally…well. That was the real battle, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t nerves, never that, from the first moment he’d picked up a guitar, learnt three chords and discovered he could sing he’d never once felt those. No, this was a rather different beast, one that, as the seconds ticked by, he’d learnt was capable of drowning out even the baying masses. A constant voice in the back of his mind that was forever muttering about one day, _that one fucking day_ , when he’d wake up from the impossible dream of it all.

That eventually, this whole _thing_ his life had inexplicably become would just up and vanish in a puff of air and he’d be that scrawny little shit on a street corner again, battered guitar in hand, singing his heart out for shrapnel and the odd, precious fifty pence piece.

Still, he forcibly reminded himself over that voice, a happy smile he didn‘t have to fake spreading his lips, none of that was likely any time soon, what with the eye watering advance cheque for his next album already burning a metaphoric hole in his pocket. Did him good to stay grounded though, he‘d never wanted to become one of those pricks who got their feet under the table at a record label and thought the world owed them it. Fuck that, he needed to remember his roots, as his mum was very fond of telling him!

She might have had a point too, which was all well and good, but no one had said he couldn’t just have it for now, right?! Just a little bit of fun after the work and grind it had taken to get where he now stood, bedecked in all the designer sportswear a kid could ever possibly want, with the masses outside chanting his name.

Alright, he decided with determined nod before touching his ears to Adidas emblazoned shoulders in a quick stretch of muscles; so this shit, the fame, the music, the adoration, god, the _love_ …none of it was gonna last.He wasn’t thick enough to believe different, but for now, fucking hell he was going to enjoy every last second of it!

“Eggs, thirty seconds, you ready?” Roxy asked with her usual look of serenity that Eggsy was well aware only covered the mask of frantically ticking mind for appearances sake. The slightly feral grin he threw her in return was met with merely a raised brow and he was forced into rolling his eyes just to get the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. He would take it since getting any emotion out of that impassively professional demeanour the woman plastered on when she was ‘working, thank you, Eggsy‘ was counted as a success! That, and at least tonight she’d left off the properly dangerous looking hair…thing…she favoured so he felt marginally less likely to be stabbed for being a cheeky shit!

Still a distinct lack of visible enjoyment about her though and, ever the generous one, Eggsy was not about to let that slide without a fight,

“ _Yes_ bruv, I’m ready alright! Jesus, crack a smile Rox, it’s Wembley-fucking-Arena yeah!” He beamed, nudging her with his elbow as he fixed her with his very best ‘love me’ face.

“You smile, I terrify people into getting their shit together. That’s the deal, remember…” She replied, brutally efficient as she was handed a mic, bang on time and shoved it into his hand, her own tweaking the wires on his ear pieces, checking he was plugged in right,

“Now get your arse on that stage and try not to make the front row pass out again, hmm? The stench of piss was disgusting.”

She was grinning now though and Eggsy gleefully cackled his way through the mock salute he threw back at her as he tumbled onto the stage, giddily dropping into a beaming bow for his adoring fans,

“Alright, Wembley?!”

The cheer was deafening.

 

***

 

Stumbling off the stage as the crowd were going nuts for the encore, Eggsy had to admit he was tempted to do another one just so the adoration would carry on for a bit longer.

Didn’t matter how many gigs he did, there was never going to be a time when the distance between stage and dressing room didn’t seem painfully long at the start of the night and three short steps on the way back. Some weird little kink in reality that meant you could zip between places in a heartbeat on the crest of a wave of adrenaline. Every millisecond of it a blur of smiling faces, handshakes and back-pats from people he didn’t recognise or at best had only the merest recollection of seeing before that moment.

When you were buoyed up on the giddy glee of making twelve and a half thousand people chant your name like it was a prayer, it was probably only right that that your perception of time was warped into a Neverland that spanned before you into the night. Invincible in a world where everyone you saw just fucking LOVED you. 

He’d tried to explain it to Roxy once, how it felt to be on top of the world and drenched in the knowledge that for that scant few hours, you were _amazing,_ but somehow he’d doubted she’d really ever get it. She was amazing all the time, after all, and anyone who had their shit so perpetually together probably didn’t ever need the brief feeling that you’d done something _right_ in the world.

Still, she humoured him nightly with his passing delusions of happy grandeur and this night was apparently to be no exception as she lead him back to the dressing room with his name emblazoned on a massive gold star attached to the door. That, in itself was a bit crazy too, wasn’t it?! His stupid nickname plastered all over shit like he owned the world… mind boggling. Even if he thought about it too hard even now, two years into this crazy shit… And don’t even get him started on the GROUPIES! God, the beautiful people that appeared every corner he turned, Roxy’s cut glass accent shooing away the worst of them to clear the path and settle him, at last, into his plush sofa,

“That was FUCKIN’ ‘MAZIN’ wannit?!” He squeaked, grinning like an idiot. 

Sadly the unashamed level of excitement currently overtaking him resulted in an Adidas emblazoned sleeve knocking the tray containing his rider flying…

“Shit, sorry…BUT OH MY DAYS, ROX… _WEMBLEY_!”

Eyes rolling with long suffering laughter, she was already retrieving the box of Capri-Sun’s and several packets of Wagon Wheels from where they’d scattered at his inelegant gesture,

“I know, and you were amazing, as always! Well done!” She giggled, dumping the rescued junk to the side table as she shoved him back into the seat from his attempts to help.

Mollified that she’d at least admitted it to his face this time, instead of his overhearing her on the phone later, Eggsy forced himself to settle into the squishy velvet at his back, getting comfy for his post gig treat. Nothing quite like getting yourself hocked up on E numbers and a fuck lot of sugar when you were already high as a kite on natural endorphins, he decided, snagging himself both drink and a slack handful of biscuits she’d rescued,

“You said that like it didn’t even hurt or nothing! Anyone‘d think you were going soft on me, Rox!”

“Yes, well…” Roxy snorted, leaning over to clip him round the ear with her tablet as she planted herself squarely in his line of sight,

“Before I make you think I _like_ you or something equally as awful, I’m going to tell you now, you have precisely forty five minutes before I come back into this room and fetch you for the car. Not a second more, no matter how much you whinge, do you understand?”

That tone alone was enough to cause Eggsy to pause, his mission to make a four wagon wheel sandwich out of his lap full of biscuits temporarily forgotten in the face of Roxy’s Firm Stare. She had an arsenal of stares, all of which were uncomfortably familiar to him after the two years they’d spent working in each others space and this one…it only came out when she expected full obedience with no piss taking. Well, shit. That had escalated quickly. Had he missed something? 

Suddenly and uncomfortably aware he was probably about to walk into a trap, although what that trap involved, he wasn’t quite sure, he decided to trust his tingling sixth sense for mischief and narrowed his eyes in carefully phrased trepidation,

“…Yessssss? Why exactly is that a deadline I need to remember?”

The smirk that suddenly appeared on Roxy’s face was at once terrifying and intriguing enough to make Eggsy entirely forget about even that greatest of culinary deliciousness, an unopened Capri-Sun resting on his knee.

“Because outside your door at this very moment is the Crown Princess Tilde, who has a…” She paused, attempting and failing to hide her smile behind the slight clearing of her throat in a way that instantly made Eggsy’s brow slide up,

“Very _specific_ wish that I have no doubt your generous, giving self will be more than happy to grant and I don‘t need you whimpering about it when I come back to fetch you. 

Alright, as days went, this was definitely hitting his top three and he hadn’t even seen this…shit, seriously, PRINCESS?! What IS his life?!

Evidently Roxy was taking his slightly stunned, beaming blink as affirmation that he’d understood his very much enforced time limit because she was already opening the door to a frankly flat out 10 of a girl with a cheeky glint in her eyes. Right then…

“Alright love…” he managed in greeting, mouth curled into a perpetual, charming grin as Roxy slithered from the room and the princess slunk ever closer,

“What’s this request I’m hearing all about then?”

“Forty five minutes, Eggs…” was all Roxy smirked at him as the door shut and the glorious blonde bombshell before him leaned close to whisper what was indeed a VERY specific request in his ear.

His life, his life was. _Fucking. Awesome_.

 

***

 

There were advantages to being both stinking rich and stupid famous. Not least of which included ridiculously dirty princesses, Wembley gigs and being stupid lucky, all of which Eggsy was eternally grateful for. Especially the princess bit because fucking HELL, forty five minutes he was never going to forget right there, thanks!

Anyway, by far and away his favourite was the fact that if you wanted to have a sneaky Maccie D’s at 1am after a gig, no one was really in a position to stop you. Granted, Roxy had made a compelling argument for just heading back to the hotel, bless her and her patient, lovely heart but mostly it had consisted of her agreeing not to gut him like a fish if he behaved, and possibly getting something delivered if he _INSISTED_. Sadly for her, though, it just wasn’t compelling _enough_ to prevent Eggsy finding himself sliding from the back of a limo on a very familiar street.

Familiar wasn’t really word enough for a place you knew every crack and smudge on though, was it? Familiar was a word that spoke of a happy recognition, not the creeping feeling that you’d stepped back in time and weren’t all that sure if you liked it. Had he been anywhere but the rank streets of his childhood, he might have questioned if it had always been this grim, but of course it bloody had, it was _London_ on a dank Saturday night! Theshit end at that. He should count his lucky stars it wasn’t fucking raining…

Two years of fame were falling away before his eyes as he took in the general state of the place around him.

The filthy pavement filled with a smattering of the drunk, homeless and outright dangerous of this less than salubrious area were instantly making Eggsy feel at home, if you counted on edge and feeling that surge of fight or flight that was no longer his standard state as _home_ , anyway. Just as well, really, because whilst he _was_ technically home, the grimy streets of his old neighbourhood apparently didn’t change. His odds of getting mugged, however, had ramped up quite significantly now he actually had things worth nicking on him.

Even that thought wasn’t enough to bring anything more than a beaming grin to his face though as he pottered his way aimlessly down the street towards the shining golden arches. It was almost as if he were just some kid with a bit of flash again.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot believe you’re going to make me set foot in that shit-hole.” Roxy’s voice appeared at his elbow, making his grin turn into a huff of laughter at the sound. Alright, a kid with a bit of flash and a really hot P.A. who could drink roadies under the table and still be up at 5am the next day to get shit organised. She was just that awesome.

Honestly, the woman would have been his perfect shag, and Eggsy had thought about it because come on, he wasn‘t BLIND! But then there had been that frankly traumatising dream in which he’d rather graphically lived out that scenario and woken up feeling so utterly unsettled he’d not even had an appetite for Coco Pops, for fucks sake! I mean, that’s how you knew it was a staggeringly bad idea and you were definitely better off as mates, wasn’t it?! Like shagging his MUM levels of horror. Jesus…

Looping his arm through hers as he tugged the door open, Eggsy took his chance to mock in a place Roxy was a great deal less likely to thump him in, the mischief in his eyes undoubtedly plain to see for her trained gaze,

“Never took you for a snob, Rox! All this time you’ve been hanging round with my plebby self and what breaks you is a big mac…s’a royal shame that is…”

“Oh fuck off…” she muttered, stepping into the place as if she were about to catch something hideous merely by inhaling on the premises,

“You’re no longer allowed to make royalty jokes and it’s not the place, it’s the… _food_ …" 

Eggsy would have enjoyed giggling at the delicate wrinkle of her nose on the last word, probably mocked her endlessly gentile taste buds and promised her she could force him to eat in a decent restaurant tomorrow. He would have done a lot of things, had he not suddenly found himself face to face with the ghosts of Christmas past in the form of a pair of fucking DEAN‘s little trained pitbull mates.

If the years had felt like they were melting away before, they’d flat out vanished now that was for damn sure. Dropping from him so fast that in the time it took Eggsy to draw in a breath and hiss a muttered curse at his luck taking such a swift change in direction, he was suddenly a gangly fourteen year old with old bruises and jaded eyes about to get the shit kicked out of him. It was not a comforting thought either, because seriously, what were the odds of those TWATS being here on the one night Eggsy had played close enough to risk a walk?!

Somewhere, he mused dimly, the cosmos was laughing at him for this. Should have listened to Roxy. Bollocks. She was never going to let him live this one down!

“Well look who it is…“ And they were already heading right for them, cocky attitude and arsehole swagger in full flow in a way that made Eggsy‘s feet itch to run,

“BIG mistake coming back round here after what you pulled on Dean, you little shit…”

Mercifully for all involved, his reflexes apparently remained sharp enough to remember that the bastard favoured his left side as he swung the same, piss poor, pub brawl trained punch as he always had. Well used to it as he was, Eggsy relied entirely on muscle memory and dodged it by a hair, already heading for the door.

After that, it was on sheer instinct that he managed to yank Roxy out of the way as all hell broke loose around them. Sadly the second swing caught his temple awkwardly enough to make him snap round and retaliatewith a solid right hook of his own, pulling up just in time to see Roxy deliver what could only be described as an impressively vicious kick to the nuts of her own assailant. Eggsy barely had time to blink at the vision of brutality where once his P.A. had been before she was back up and dragging at Eggsy’s arm urgently.

“Out. NOW.”

Nodding about all he was capable of amidst the shock and ringing in his ears, Eggsy allowed himself to be dragged along in her wake, only vaguely aware of her shouting into her phone in the cacophony of chaos around them. Nothing really changed, he realised, trailing Roxy as she strode her way through the locals taking any available opportunity for a scrap with gusto. The first chance of a punch up and half the bloody neighbourhood would turn out for a go!

His head was killing him in the familiar way that was an instant and visceral reminder of A&E departments and kind voices explaining to his mum that it had probably been mild concussion, better keep an eye on him for a bit. That slight sense of detachment from the world around him making it all seem oddly hazy as Roxy bundled him into the waiting limo and it peeled from the curb with a wheel spin in filthy puddles.

All that shit and he’d never even got his fucking happy meal…

Course, even the dizziness of being clocked out of the blue didn’t detract from reality quite enough to drown out the shattering of the rear window or the yelp Eggsy felt escape as it happened. A wandering crack he numbly watched bloom across the glass as the dull thud of poorly aimed shotgun shells slammed into the back of the car in some surreal repeat of scenes he watched late at night on Netflix. Then another round pelted metalwork and it was all both he and Roxy needed to duck into the seats for protection, curses aplenty,

“LOVELY neighbourhood, Eggs, I can absolutely see why you were so desperate to come back…”

“What. The. FUCK…” he managed, shaking his head a bit in a desperate attempt to clear it, the car swinging round the bend hard and finally leading them clear of at least the line of fire, because seriously, cheap, third rate drug dealers were apparently tooled up now?! Maybe the place _had_ switched up a bit after all.

“I know I always said Dean was a total weapon but…Jesus Rox, you alright?!”

“Oh just peachy…” she muttered, blowing a chunk of her hair from her eyes as her phone was retrieved from the floor and rapidly fiddled with,

“I love nearly getting my head blown off by your psychotic, arms toting past, Eggs, it’s the highlight of my fucking day…”

“Sorry bruv…shoulda prolly listened to ya when…” Sadly that was as far as Eggsy got before there was a perfectly manicured finger held before his nose and he obediently shushed. Going cross eyed and snapping his mouth shut was not his coolest moment, but he knew a lot better than to push his luck any further when Roxy looked as close to anger as he’d ever seen her get. Also, she was fucking terrifying?!

“Yes, hello, I’d like to bring in a pair of shoes for repair…” she was saying, voice deadly in it’s calm as she fixed her hair with the hand not holding phone to ear and not for the first time that night, Eggsy was completely lost.

Shoes…seriously…

“That’s right, yes, Oxford’s not Brogues…ahh, no, I believe it‘s the triple welted derby, in oxblood.“

A pause in which Eggsy felt himself blink in silent confusion,

“Oh thank you so much. I‘ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And then…she hung up. Just like that, cool as a cucumber, leaning forwards to tap on the tinted glass between them and the evidently extremely well trained chauffeur,

“Foot down, please, thank you so much for the excellent work.”

“What…the fuck…” Eggsy managed, internally dead proud he’d actually managed even that in this twilight zone of weird that had become of his night.

“You are going to go to bed and get up at a reasonable hour because firstly, you’re going to tell me precisely who the fuck just shot at us, and secondly, we’re going to have a meeting at nine am.” Came the clipped reply, Roxy already digging in her bag for the ever present tablet she used to organise Eggsy’s world with staggering efficiency.

“Right, course, yeah but…who the fuck are we meeting at the crack of fucking dawn after getting SHOT AT?!”

“Your new bodyguard.”

Right. _Well_. Still though, there was that lingering thought…

“Lucky the glass was bullet proof innit…” he managed with a tentative, lopsided grin.

Astute eyes flicked to him, Roxy’s brow sliding up as she lifted a delicate hand to the crazed surface of the rear window, giving it the merest ping with a nail that caused the entire thing to collapse in a shower of glittering shards onto the shelf behind their heads,

“Nine am, Eggs. Do not make me drag you out of that bed.”

Shit. Bodyguards then. Right.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains exceedingly brief mentions of past domestic abuse, fair warning.

Mornings had never been Eggsy’s forte. In the years he’d actually been forced to attend school, his mum had frequently resorted to just dragging the covers right off him and threatening with cold water in buckets to get him up. Roxy, however, after being assigned to him by his record label, had learnt very swiftly that a rather more _direct_ approach would be necessary if she ever wanted him to get to morning appointments on time. So much so, in fact, that it only took the single threat of her physically hauling him out of bed by the ear if he slept in past the allotted hour to actually get his sorry arse up on time.

Up, but not necessarily showered and dressed in something he hadn‘t slept in, mind you.

That night had been no exception to that rule, since Eggsy had dutifully set his phone alarm for 8 am before passing out cold in an exhausted puddle of worn off endorphins and weird dreams where his past and present mixed unpleasantly. There had been blood all over his custom built stage set, the one from Wembley, seeping thickly into the glittery floor while his mum cried in a corner with a fat lip and gorey black eye…

Even the vague memories of it made him shiver when, six, painfully short hours later, his phone had blared loudly enough to drag him awake with a frustrated grunt and he’d done his level best to sleepwalk his way through slapping the snooze button three times.

It took another ten minutes before he could actually make it to the edge of his own mattress, bleary eyes rubbed enough to get the gritty sleep feeling off them so he could see the clock. 8.41am. Shit.

Even as the realisation hit, his bedroom door swung open, Roxy’s usual complete lack of care over what state he might be caught in clearly in full force as she strode in, immaculate as ever. One day, he was going to ask her what her hangover cure was, because clearly it was the shit!

Unperturbed by his sleep deprived wincing, she came to a halt, looming over his half naked self and paused, a frown sliding into a brow raised stare that fixed somewhere around his left cheek.

Drooled on himself again then, awesome.

The silence stretched and Eggsy swiped a hand over his mouth, throwing what he hoped was a winning smile up at her before at last, she sighed and cocked a hip, the toe of her well polished boot tapping at the wooden hotel floor,

“Well, at least you’re awake, I suppose. Get your arse up, you have eight minutes, you can eat breakfast while we talk to your bodyguard.”

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth…and Roxy not losing her shit at him first thing in the morning, despite his flouting the long standing morning rules of compliance, was very definitely that, Eggsy scrambled to gather something clean from his vast wardrobes. Christ, he could murder a cuppa and somehow heavily doubted he was going to be allowed one for some time to come. Maybe, if he were riding a streak of luck here, he might be able to sweet talk one of the hotel maids into nipping down the local greasy spoon and fetching him some builders tea…

His mindless gazing into the depths of his wardrobe based abyss hadn’t gone unnoticed, it seemed, since he was given a healthy nudge as Roxy shoved a bundle of clothes into his hands.

“Oh good grief, here, put these on and attempt to make yourself look slightly less like a walking hangover…” She muttered,forcibly moving him in the direction of the bathroom before ducking back out to do whatever the fuck it was she deemed necessary to his train wreck of a room,

“You will be on time for this one if it kills both of us…you first.”

Alright, he could handle this. It wasn’t rocket science, he didn’t have to be fielding questions from scumbag reporters or schmoozing idiots, just a meeting with…yeahhh, bodyguards. That, even in the cold light of day, after getting shot at and all remained just _weird!_ Rich tossers with psycho stalkers had bodyguards, the charming Princess Tilde had bodyguards, they just weren’t really a _thing_ for scruffy little oiks who ‘d lucked out dramatically in life, surely!

“This all strictly necessary, Rox?” He called absently, yawning as he dragged a hand through the crop of his hair and struggled slightly closer towards being fully conscious. Speaking of, probably should do something about getting dressed instead of vaguely wondering what the fuck his life had come to.

Staggering bare footed and half naked on cold, hotel bathroom tiles, clothing was seeming like quite a good idea, all in. Preferably before Roxy barged back in and threatened to dress him herself. The concept alone forced him to actually focus on the mirror in front of him and…shit his face was a fucking wreck! It probably said something about his childhood that he’d actually forgotten the fist to the face he’d taken the night before. It was never going to be good to be that used to getting thumped, was it.

Still, the purple bruise currently gracing his cheekbone may well explain Roxy’s long pause at seeing him sat on the edge of his rumpled bed.

Double shit.

“Yes it fucking well is, six minutes.” The clipped reply that made Eggsy frown down at the ridiculously flashy, marble sink. Right. Meeting.

Hands moving on autopilot, he grabbed a flannel and unceremoniously dunked it under the tap, letting it run until his fingers tingled with the cold before he pressed the cloth to the bruise with a wince. He really was getting soft, that had caned a lot more than he remembered it doing in the old days… 

“If I promise not to go titting about in places I shouldn’t again…can we just…not?” He called back through the door, adjusting the flannel with a grunt at the fresh burst of pain.

Hell, it was worth a go to talk her out of it. Especially since the concept of being followed about by a big, burly bloke armed to the teeth and not letting anyone talk to him for every minute of the day was very much NOT Eggsy’s idea of a good time. Worth a go but immediately shot down as Roxy leaned around the door with a look on her face that immediately sent a shiver of impending fear down Eggsy’s spine.

“Eggs. You know I love you like a variety of extremely tasteless brother, but you are, without doubt, sometimes a terrifying idiot.”

“Right…” he blinked, watching her warily in case she decided to strike out with the lightning reflexes she reserved for when she was deeply pissed off.

“You are also…” she began, fingers folding down as she ticked off the words,

“Wealthy, famous, young and have what the press charmingly term ‘a dubious, murky past’. You’re an obvious target and as such, you will have the best backing the Kingsman label can provide you to make sure you don‘t ever become an EASY one.”

“…right…” Eggsy repeated, caught unexpectedly between an oddflood of warmth for the affection evident in her words and the slightly scary prospect of her being completely right on all counts. Not really a comforting thing, that bit, even softened as it was by the knowledge that the promise to look after him first made when Kingsman Records had signed him remained true in every sense.

“I’m sorry Eggs…” Roxy was saying, a gentle hand landing on his arm as she came to stand beside him, turning him to face her as she spoke, peeling the flannel from his face with a wince before re-applying and holding it there as if it had personally offended her,

“I wish it wasn’t, but this _is_ necessary and it ‘ll be ok...”

The little smile that quirked her mouth up was adorable and had he not still feared for his own safety in the wake of not being ready on time, Eggsy might have told her that. Instead, he settled for the hug she easily fell into, grinning against her ear as he gave her a squeeze and whispered,

“Just don’t call me Whitney, yeah?”

“Oh god you really are a muppet, aren’t you!”

“You love it!”

“Fuck off. Three minutes, lazy arse!”

And with that, she was gone, leaving merely Eggsy and hisdistinctly purple bruisedreflection to get in gear.

 

***

 

By the time he’d managed to give himself the worlds quickest shower, run a brush round his teeth and found clothing, Eggsy’s three minutes were well and truly up. A fact he was forcibly reminded of when Roxy’s rather more polite than usual call of his name from the main room of his suite appeared through the door. No more putting it off then, clearly, and she had yet to actually smack him today, so maybe it wouldn’t be that bad?

No, it was absolutely going to be that bad…but there might at least be a bacon sandwich on the other side of that door, which was enough to get him heading towards it and the murmur of talking on the other side. Bodyguard then. Greaaaat.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting when at last he stepped into the room and found himself the sudden focus of attention for both its occupants. Whatever it had been, however, it was very firmly _not_ the tall, dark and immaculate bloke currently chatting to Roxy over a delicate little porcelain cup of what posh hotels called _‘_ _tea_ _’_.

Even in the scant few seconds he was afforded before they noticed him, it was more than clear they knew each other well. Roxy was moving with the casual ease she only did when she fully trusted someone and the interloper in their midst had a smile that transformed an otherwise impassive face into something else entirely. Something, in fact, that vaguely registered in Eggsy’s still sleep doped mind as being really quite attractive…if you liked the classical, Mr.Darcy look.

Surely that wasn’t the bodyguard?! They were supposed to be massive, beefy types with biceps the size of tree trunks and a hint of latent threat about them. They were very definitely _not_ affable looking, if, yes, alright, really quite fit, gents in pinstripe suits! He had a BROLLY for fucks sake! Not even a pocket one, one of them full size, pointy ones that bankers carried for show!

“Ahh, there you are! Eggsy, this is Harry Hart. Now sit down and eat something before you fall over.” Roxy announced, already back on her feet and pouring a third cup of that dishwater masquerading as tea in a way that suggested Eggsy had better be on his best behaviour or get that thump he’d managed to avoid first thing.

“ _Alright_.” he managed with a nod to their guest as he slunk into a free chair and sprawled in his very best nonchalant fuck-you-all style. Roxy would see through it immediately of course, but somehow, he couldn ‘t quite break the habit of partially reverting to the brash little shit he’d been when Merlin had dragged him off the street.All front and enough lack of care for his own self to mouth off in the face of authority figures to see where it would get him.

Long ago, back at the start of this ridiculous roller coaster his life had become, he’d had a very similar meeting in a very similar hotel and for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure on, it was currently flooding back to him in waves. Possibly, he mused, fidgeting slightly with an unknown tension under the unwavering gaze of the man opposite, because this _Mr. Hart_ reminded him of that first meeting with Merlin. People didn’t forget meeting Merlin, and Eggsy had a sneaking feeling he wasn’t going to forget meeting Harry Hart either. He wasn’t yet sure if that was a comforting thought or not.

“Good morning. Please, call me Harry.” came the altogether pleasantly smiled reply and immediately, Eggsy allowed himself the moment of shifting in his chair under the subtle scrutiny he was being given. What was it with Kingsman?! Did they just turn away anyone from an interview unless they could look like they‘d been poured into their chair? God knew Roxy was a chameleon, able to seem utterly at home in any situation and this _Harry_ was apparently cut from a similar cloth. Similar, but definitely not the same. There was something rather more magnetic in the way an elegant hand passed him the tea Roxy had just poured, long fingers smoothing the saucers rim as they retreated and left Eggsy slightly dry mouthed. 

It really was not fair that he was surrounded by people who oozed… whatever the fuck it was that they oozed.

And _jesus christ_ his mind was mush without breakfast!

“ _Eggsy_.  Mornin‘.“ He muttered. It was too bloody early, that was entirely the problem! Why was it meetings like this always happened at arse o’clock in the morning when he was least mentally prepared?! It was like Roxy constantly liked him wrong footed on important shit just so she could later tell him he’d agreed to something he couldn’t even remember.

“Merlin sent Harry over personally after last night…” Roxy was explaining, comfortably ensconced in her chair, cup of something undoubtedly tar like and caffeine based held in both hands like it was the single source of heat in a freezing room,

“He also said to tell you to get your arse in gear and write some more damn songs, but nothing changes there. You’ll be in the studio with him in a fortnight so get something done would you? I have no intention of covering for your lazy arse again.”

Had he actually been allowed near something that resembled tea and food, Eggsy might have had something rather more eloquent to say in reply to that ‘request’ from his producer and erstwhile boss. As it was, he settled for a barely awake grunt and the rubbing of his hand over tired face. If he still had a fortnight, he could probably manage a couple of songs in that time. Besides, he usually worked best when he was holed up in a darkened room with nothing but Merlin’s vast array of tech, a bunch of session musicians and that excellent scotch the wiley old bastard kept stashed in the bottom drawer under the mixing desk.

All things in, ever since that first, unforgettable meeting with Merlinhimself, Eggsy had retained nothing less than an exceedingly healthy respect for the man who had plucked him from obscurity and propelled him into stardom. Not least of which because it was a rare individual that could drink Roxy under the table and still manage to mix a coherent album at 3am on a Tuesday morning! All of which rather meant that if Merlin, in his infinite, if somewhat blunt, Scottish wisdom, had sent this Hart bloke in, well, it should be alright…maybe…

Still a _bodyguard_ though, and that was just all kinds of shit.

Above him, he heard Roxy’s long suffering sigh right before a food laden plate landed under his nose with a thump. Bacon, eggs and something that looked like butter and mushrooms had indulged in a long affair in a frying pan. God that looked gorgeous. Gorgeous enough, in fact, to drag his pensive gaze off his newly hired shadow to be met with a raised brow and thoroughly unimpressed look on the face he‘d been about to thank. Shit. Today was apparently ‘walk the line on things likely to get you castrated’ day, then. Roxy only ever got that face on when he’d failed to pay attention to something she deemed vital.

“If you’ve quite finished behaving like a sulking twelve year old, do you think perhaps we could get on with this? Harry needs to give you a run down on how this is going to work.”

Grudgingly nodding with a mumbled apology, Eggsy set about demolishing the buttery deliciousness of his breakfast that had begun to waft enticing scents under his nose, the hand free of fork automatically reaching for his tea,

“How’s this work then? You follow me around ‘n look threatening? No offence, bruv, but I dunno how well that’s gonna go for you…”

Just as the frankly intriguing smile was crinkling the corners of Harry’s eyes Roxy’s phone made itself known by vibrating across the table with a shrill ring, dragging a curse and swift murmur to carry on without her as she headed out to the balcony. Before the door had even closed behind her, the melodic tones of her giving someone a hard time in French rang out, silenced as the double glazing slid shut, leaving Eggsy and that smile alone.

“I will be a visible presence, correct. But essentially I shall be arranging any and all security matters necessary in the course of your daily life.” Harry said, apparently more than at ease with the concept of Roxy’s ball breaking via international phone line in the background since he was sipping his tea like this was his every day.

Maybe it was, Eggsy mused, necking half his own, distinctly sub par beverage before returning his attentions to the food.God knew Merlin hadn’t even flinched when Roxy had gone toe to toe with him that time after a sixteen hour recording binge. Maybe Kingsman Records really did just employ only the truly unflappable of the world, the kind of people for whom catastrophic explosions were merely rather inconvenient things that got plaster dust in the sherry.

It was also possible Eggsy was watching a bit too much late night adventure shit on tele, mind you.

“Listen mate…” he began, casting a brief, hopefully non-suspicious glance back to the balcony doors just to be sure Roxy wasn’t watching. He wouldn’t put it past her to be able to lip read and she was exceedingly unlikely to overlook any second attempts to talk her out of this whole thing,

“What happened yesterday was a one off, ok. It were just a bit of a punch up in some shit hole bit of town, innit. Don‘t mean I need…” he paused, fork filled hand gesturing vaguely in Harry’s direction before it was back to the plate,

“All of this…”

Harry, as unflappable as Eggsy had expected, merely relaxed into his chair, head tilting with a thoughtful moue to take in Eggsy’s uncomfortable form before he spoke again, nodding in the direction of a purple cheekbone,

“Your face rather says otherwise. An impressive bruise, half aninch lower and you would have had quite the black eye. Somewhat harder to hide beneath concealer than that, perhaps?” 

Shit. He’d actually forgotten about his face because apparently he really couldn’t function on less than eight hours sleep these days. Not that he was ever going to admit that to Atilla the Rox, thank you very much, even if it was true.

He really wasn’t going to get out of this one, was he. Bruised up face, over protective P.A. and Merlin taking the safety of his signed acts rather more personally than Eggsy would ever have guessed. It all amounted to a done deal. One that came with it’s own, personal, gentleman bodyguard, it seemed.

The sigh, when it escaped him, plumed at the steam from his tea and he let resigned eyes fall on Harry’s impassive face,

“Alright, point made. What do I have to do?”

“Allow me to ensure your safety at all times, don’t go anywhere without first alerting either Roxy or myself and…” the short pause caused a frown to appear on Eggsy’s brow as Harry reached into his pocket, rifling about for a moment. When his hand reappeared, it was curled around a small velvet box he placed onto the table and pushed over to Eggsy’s plate with a long finger,

“Make sure _this_ is never off your body.”

Wiping bacon sticky hands on his jeans, Eggsy reached for the box and fixed Harry with a narrow eyed, hopefully mischief free, look,

“It ain’t a _target_ is it? ”

The huff of laughter and genuine smile he got in return was both unexpected and somehow lightened the face before him. Enough, in fact, to make Eggsy grin in return and privately marvel at how easily Harry went from merely passably attractive to ‘walking into lampposts’ levels. So much of a shock was it, in fact, that it took his dumbstruck self two attempts to force his fingers back to work and crack open the box he held, finally finding himself staring down at the weird little medallion on a long chain,

“That’s the label logo…” he managed, confusion rife as he dragged the pendant free of it’s velvety confines to examine it closer. The pink enameled edge glinted as the light caught it, highlighting the reclining K designed in twisted gold in the midst of the circle,

“You saying I need to be labelled at all times now? Merlin gone old school in his old age has he, make sure the opposition knows which cash cows are his ‘n all that shit?”

“No, but I’ll mention you suggested it. It’s your panic button…” Harry replied, voice warm and understanding in a way that should have set Eggsy on edge, but somehow fell closer to the gentle reassurance it was undoubtedly meant to be. That little smile was firmly in place on Harry now, making the lines around his eyes crinkle in appealing ways that almost, but not quite, detracted from the fact that Eggsy was actually going to have to wear a fucking panic button. Because his weeks went from high to low in the space of one filthy princess and a lost happy meal now. Bloody hell.

“There’s a sliding plate on the reverse. You need merely move it to the side and press your thumb beneath to activate. Do so and I will find you, wherever you may be.” 

And wasn’t it just a kick in the head that whilst the concept of being famous enough to need a _PANIC BUTTON_ failed to leave more than a faint tinge of worry in Eggsy’s mind, the calmly delivered speech that had followed it had quite the opposite effect.

He tried not to think about either of those things as he grudgingly slung the chain over his head, feeling thecold metal press at his chest as he tucked the medallion under his shirt. There were a lot of things he was trying not to think about now, not least of which being how he was going to tell his MUM he was being tailed by a bloke that looked like an investment banker but had a really nice, infectious fucking smile. And nice hands. He definitely wasn’t thinking about those. Or how the metal of that sodding panic button had already warmed to his skin and Harry’s heavy gaze had trailed the chain as it dipped beneath his shirt.

Alright, that last one maybe he could think about. He was only bloody human, after all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which idiots get to chatting and life rolls on around them!

Around him the lights had dimmed and Eggsy settled himself more comfortably on the shitty, _‘_ _designer_ _’_ chair he ’d been given, shifting his too shiny guitar into position and taking a deep breath. It wasn’t his favourite thing, doing the weird little performances that television shows requested, but, he supposed, it was all part of the dog and pony show that was his career. At least this time they’d not kicked up a fuss when Roxy had stated his one, non-negotiable demand; that he get to do it live and not mimed.

He could hear the crew falling quiet, only the whir of electronics barely detectable as more than white noise signifying that they were recording and slowly, he began the muscle memory action of playing. This part, the bit where it was just him and the music, an easy, age old partnership he’d learned to tame to his own needs over the years, THIS bit, he could do. This was a world away from bloody panic buttons, the screaming girls outside that had mobbed his car on the way in, the constant clamour and the _noise_.

It was everything that brought him peace in the world and Eggsy allowed himself to get lost in it, voice ringing out over the lone guitar as he played.

Sadly, though, four minutes of abject peace in the world was over before he’d really even noticed and as the final note rang out in the warm studio air, he lifted his head, smile firmly in place as he found Roxy giving him the twin thumbs up. He threw her a wink then, purely because he could, and still flying high on the happiness of performing. It was only when he’d done it he realised Harry was standing right there beside her, terrifyingly intelligent, pale eyes firmly watching him, a half smile tilting up his mouth.

It should have felt like an imposition, the sudden insertion into his world of a total stranger, yet Harry had gone out of his way to avoid making it awkward, something Eggsy was finding himself very grateful for. Maybe it was the fact that he had been nothing more than a quiet presence in the background for the last three weeks, only noticeable when an autograph hunter got a little bit too close, or the crowd outside the hotel had begun to encroach into his personal space overly. Even then, though, Harry had simply and gently imposed himself between Eggsy and the issue at hand, quietly allowing him to slink away untouched and fuss free whilst whatever it was got dealt with in his wake.

It was a weird and yet oddly comforting feeling that Eggsy was rather swiftly getting used to. He had yet to really work out if that was a good thing, even if the afternoon his mum and Ruby had met Harry, they’d shared a pot of tea, had an in depth discussion on the cast of Eastenders and watched a whole episode of Peppa Pig.

That bit was just bizarre.

“You have an interview and then we have to get on a plane, ok Eggs?” Roxy was saying, the question rhetorical at best as she fiddled with her tablet, able to keep her eyes glued on it even as the show runner guided them across the studio and Eggsy into an equally ridiculous, uncomfortable chair,

“Standard questions, should be pretty dull, try not to cause chaos…” At this last word, her eyes flicked up from the screen in her hands, brow sliding up as she added,

“Don’t give me that face, you know precisely what I mean. It’s three minutes, _behave_. ”

After that, it was the usual whirlwind of makeup girls he gave a cheeky grin to as a dusting of powder was applied ‘to remove the shine’, sound men attaching a mic and the quick nod to a presenter he vaguely recognised. Then there was the interview. If you could really call it that, since these ridiculous three minute chats were always a complete waste of time, but hey, if the world wanted to know for the fourteenth time what his favourite colour was, fair enough! It was pointless but he’d take it over running till your heart felt like it could explode just because the shop you nicked something from had security fit enough to chase you. He'd take that any bloody day!

By the time they’d made it to the car again, autographs suitably signed and a legion of selfies obliging taken, Eggsy’s face, barest hint of remaining bruise hidden beneath Roxy’s carefully applied concealer, was definitely aching.

It was with an exhausted sigh that he’d finally slumped into the buttery soft leather of a limo. He really needed a decent nights sleep somewhere in the next twenty four hours or he was likely to just drop where he stood! Some of the longing for a flat surface and pillow was apparently evident in his expression since Harry threw him a consoling smile when he slipped into the car beside him, effortlessly elegant as usual,

“You could nap on the plane, if you like. Having seen the schedule, I don’t believe there’s anything planned for the journey.” he murmured, settling in beside Eggsy’s almost prone form.

“Yeah? Thank fuck for that…” Was about all Eggsy was capable of replying with, head rolling on the seat back to cast a tired smile over in response to Harry’s gentle tone. A warm beat passed between them before Roxy appeared at his other side, blue toothed up and already chuntering darkly in French to some poor bastard on the other end of the line. 

She’d been giving him lessons over the last few months and whilst they had actually been going quite well, Eggsy was frankly too far gone to bother attempting to mentally translate.

Instead, he sprawled, comfortable at last in a seat not built for style over practicality allowing the flow of words to wash over him. He quite liked French, though. It had a certain lyrical flow to it that made all the words sound like they were being released into the air like birds… And fucks sake, that’s how you knew you were off your tits tired, when you could wax lyrical about a French argument in the back of a limo. Jesus Christ.

Attempting to drag himself back up to sitting enough to click into place the seatbelt that Roxy had been distractedly attempting to pull over him one handed, he felt a touch at his hip and paused. That hand nudging the lock home was definitely _not_ Roxy ’s, and certainly wasn’t his, which meant that when his eyes flicked downwards, he was treated to the pulse quickening sight of Harry’s long fingers lingering on him.

Logically, and somewhere in the exhausted mush of his brain, there was still logic. Probably. He knew that a hand on his hip meant the man would have had to lean over him, but still, that same logic failed miserably to prepare him when he turned his head to mutter his thanks and found himself nose to nose with the man himself. Close enough, in fact, he could see the flecks of green in brown eyes. Maybe it was little hints of brown in green eyes? Either way, Eggsy momentarily got a bit lost in them.

That might have been a staggering understatement, if he were being honest with himself, because he had a feeling that what he actually did was release a shuddering, unexpected breath and give himself a moment to drink in the view. It was, he dimly noted, a fucking pretty one at that. Well, no, _pretty_ implied there was something delicate about that knowing gaze currently watching him with as much undivided attention as he was awarding them in return. They were more …properly _fascinating_ than delicate in any sense. Fascinating and, he noted with no small quantity of pride, rather more heavy lidded as Eggsy found himself nervously licking his lips.

Harry was just… _ridiculously_ hot.

And…wow, seriously _RIGHT THERE_ , checking him out. _Shit_.

His life? His life was. _Fucking. Awesome_.

“Oh my _actual_ christ…” Roxy’ s proclaimed, frustration loosed into the suddenly very warm car and just like that, the moment was gone, Harry pulling back to gaze unseeing out of the window and Eggsy whipping round with guilt writ large on his face.

She would kill him, or WORSE, take his new trainers away in punishment or…oh god, what if it was his Playstation…

“Fucking French tele producers!” Roxy continued and Eggsy held very still in the face of her rant, hoping the dramatic event that had occurred barely two feet from her really had gone as unnoticed as it seemed. She was a bit like a T-rex in situations like this, fury based on movement and an ability to smell fear at 100 yards…

Still though, Harry’s thigh was a warm presence against his own and Eggsy risked the wrath of P.A. scorn and let his eyes flicker over to just get a littleglimpse of the man. What he found, however, very nearly blew any hope of his remaining silent clean out of the water, because Harry was studiously staring out of the tinted window with the merest hint of pink staining his cheeks. _God_ , that was hot. Hot enough to give Eggsy a pleasurable and searing mental image of what a truly flushed Harry would look like…before it sank in that actually, he should probably be listening to Roxy still. Shit.

“Honestly, you’d think we asked for the world! How hard is it to have the ‘live band’ perform LIVE?! If they can’t bloody play they shouldn’t be in a fucking BAND, should they!” She was stillranting, clearly oblivious to the immense shift in Eggsy’s attentions.

“Um…all sorted now?” He attempted with exceedingly tentative care and a slightly hoarse voice. As unexploded hand grenades went, Roxy was definitely one you wanted to find the pin for within sixty seconds or die trying. Regardless of whether or not you’d just realised how much you’d like your bodyguard to pin you to the nearest surface and take you apart.

“What?“ Her head snapped up and for a second, Eggsy felt himself freeze again,

“Yes, it’s fine, they can bloody well man up and find a decent keyboard player…” The dismissive wave of her hand paused right along with the words as Roxy at last caught a glimpse of Eggsy’s face, her eyes narrowing with something he REALLY hoped wasn’t suspicion. He was WAY too young to die and fucked if he was going to before he’d even got a kiss out of Harry…

The silence stretched for an endless, panic filled beat in Eggsy’s chest…and then she sighed, reaching for her bag and digging out a tissue,

“Bloody make up girl used that godawful television make up over the concealer, I’d better just sort it in case there’s paps at the airport…”

Now, much as Eggsy wasn’t fond of having his face attacked with a wet wipe like a five year old, it was several degrees better than being caught out mooning over your eminently fuckable, glorious gent of a bodyguard. ESPECIALLY when said bodyguard looked very much like the type to have a wife and kids at home and _wow_ , he really knew fuck all about Harry?! Maybe he should start asking some questions of his own…

 

***

 

There had, in fact, been paps at the airport. Rather predictably, they’d lain in wait for his limo and managed to get their precious snapshots just as a still slightly warm under the collar Eggsy had got out of the car under Harry’s watchful eye. Naturally Roxy had steamrollered straight through them, expertly clearing a path as Eggsy had thrown the usual smiling waves their way before slinking into the first class lounge and collapsing onto a sofa. The concept of two hours on a plane wasn’t filling him with joy, but at least it would mean he could get a bit of sleep, even if that was still a way off yet. Even stardom couldn’t do away with boarding times, more was the bloody pity.

Clearly reading his mind, Roxy appeared in his slumped eyeline, can of cherry coke and crossword book being held out to him with a knowing smile,

“Here…” she said, giving his foot a light kick with her own to get his attention, 

“Your usual pre-flight entertainment, Mr. Unwin!”

“You’s a saint, you are!” Grabby hands might not have been the classiest of moves, but Eggsy was tired, bored and in dire need of something to take his mind off the fact that he was about to play three straight nights in a city he didn’t know. Getting off his tits on sugar and working his way through a few pages of this months precious copy of Crossword Collection were precisely what the doctor ordered. It was, therefore, with some anticipatory glee that he dragged himself to cross legged and began to settle himself in

Sadly it was only then that he realised his bag containing all the essentials in life (iPod, cans and a weeks worth of chocolate) also contained a pen. The bag that was currently at Roxy‘s feet, all the way over the other side of the room where she was patently flirting with an air stewardess. The call that had been about to leave his mouth turned into a sigh instead. It wasn’t like she ever got any time to herself, be bordering on cruel to drag her off what was looking like a sure thing. If the body language was anything to go by, Roxy‘s flight was about to get a great deal more interesting and Eggsy was  _absolutely_ going to be asking for details later, thanks!

“Pen?” And if Eggsy’s head had whipped round any quickerhe would have been in danger of whiplash, because Harry moved like a fucking CAT!

“Jesus christ you’re light on your feet!” he managed, taking a moment to drag in a startled breath, grin spreading over his face as he quickly steadied the coke can where it rested on his knee,

“Anyone ever say you should wear a bell? Cos you should…a big one…”

That distractingly gorgeous crinkle was back at the corner of Harry’s eyes, head ducking in a show of contrition rendered utterly false by the smirk that lingered on ridiculously kissable mouth,

“Ahazard of the trade. It’s very hard to sneak up on someone when they can hear you coming.”

“Bet that‘s what all the tabbies say to the birds n‘all.” Eggsy countered, brows raised over his gleefully cheeky smile as he plucked the pen from where it was still held out to him and wriggled over enough to make a space beside him on the sofa,

“Just for scaring the bejesus out of me, you can help me on the cryptics…”

The crossword book was lifted enough to be jiggled in explanation before he somehow dragged his gaze off the pinstriped body in front of him and set about finding a decent puzzle to occupy them both. Preferably before he did something Roxy would make him regret later. Such as jumping his edible sodding bodyguard right then and there in the first class departure lounge, for instance…

“You can do the nature questions, m’always shit at them…” he muttered, trying and failing to ignore the fact that Harry didn’t even pause. He simply sank into the gap cleared for him on that bloody sofa and nonchalantly leant over Eggsy‘s shoulder to read.

“Three down is axolotl…” he said, voice a warm breath, agonisingly close.

“Axo- _what_ -l? That ain’t even a word, guv, come off it…” 

“A variety of Mexican salamander, actually. Fascinating creatures.”

“Yeah? Go on then, givvus the rundown…”

 

***

 

Never, Eggsy later found himself realising, had international travel gone more quickly or been more fun than the journey he’d just spent doing crosswords with Harry. The increasingly ridiculous answers they’d both come up with for questions had become an ongoing contest until they were both giggling like children and the crosswords were long forgotten. After that, it had just been a chat, a really good, long, all encompassing chat in which they’d covered more topics than he could even remember as he collapsed into his hotel bed for the night.

It had been… _amazing_ .

It was very possible he was a bit fucked here.

Very possible indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because no star can escape social media...

_An Un-doubted-Win for Eggsy- But who‘s THIS?!_

_Yesterday_ **,** _on his way to a three night stint in Paris, we were treated to a floorshow by everyone’s favourite cheeky chappy, Eggsy. Fans of the twenty year old London singer were thrilled to find him laughing and joking with a mystery man (as seen in these exclusive photo’s!) whilst they waited for their flight. Rumour has it that the good times continued on the plane too! Who is this dapper new companion to our little cockney sparrow?!_

_WHO INDEED!_

_**182 Comments. Top rated replies:** _

**_@MRSUNWINno1_ **

_THRILLED?! Dunno bout that mate, reckon I’m just proper jealous yeah!_

**_@AnGeLeGgSy_ **

_aHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhicANNOTEVEN_

**_@LilChick69_ **

_That blokes a bit OLD inne?!_ ಠ ___ ಠ

_**@XxXeggs &bakeyXxX** _

_SO GUTTED I MISSED THE SHOW! And the one on stage! LOL_

**_@sexy_devil602277_ **

_omg y r the pritty ones always gay!!! smh_

**_@Abigailsavage1._ **

_SAME BLOKE THAT WAS IN BACKGROUND OF THE VIDEO FROM MTV!!!_ _< eggsymtvchat.gif>_

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_

***

_**Eggsy - The Paris Nights, Bercy Arena, Paris. * * * * *** _

_**Tonight marks the final evening of London based singer songwriter Eggsy’s sold out three-day run at the famous Bercy Arena. Despite the apparently tight schedule needed to fit these gigs in, Eggsy has been on sparkling form, playing a solid mixture of previous hits like ‘Pug Life’ and ‘My Endless Days’ before throwing in a few teasers off his newly released second album. New tunes debuted included a stellar little number guaranteed to keep you dancing called ’Ruby-Lee’, written about the singers younger sister. We suspect it may well be the hit of the year!** _

_**Eggsy’s as yet untitled third album is due for release in early 2016, his tour continues in Spain, next week.** _

***

_**Get the Look: Eggsy on Tour** _

_**Want to dress like your favourite celebs but lack the superstar budget? No problem, we've got your back! This weeks episode, our home grown talent, Eggsy! The ££££'s style he favours on a budget as seen on our model can be bought for a mere £100, here's how.** _

_**< styleiconeggsy.PNG>** _

_**Sportswear selection courtesy of SportsDirect.com, currently having a sale so be quick!** _

_**Signature K pendant from EggsyStore on Etsy, £15.** _

_**Bracelet courtesy of H.Samuel, £27.99.** _

_**The cheeky smile and endless talent sadly you have to supply, but hey, we tried!** _

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is progress...

Twelve gigs, four countries and more smiling faces than Eggsy knew what to do with later and they were finally crawling their way, bone weary and utterly tapped out, back home. Well, no, not  _home_ exactly because at this point, he wasn’t even really sure where home  _was_ , let alone how to get there, but at least he knew they were heading to the closest thing he had to a home short of his mum’s plush new house. Purchased with the profits of his first album and furnished in his mums  _unique_ style, the place had never really settled as being anything HIS, even though he knew full well she kept a room for him there. A room that was frankly terrifyingly shiny thanks to the custom made cabinet proudly displaying all his awards and trophies. He wasn’t even going to think about where she’d managed to find the exact same Thomas the Tank Engine sheets he’d had when he was eight…

Interior design aspects aside, it seemed a great deal more natural to be heading to the wilds of Scotland now. As natural as it was ever going to feel, anyway, for a scrappy kid from London for whom nature had been a single school trip to the zoo when he was eleven during which he’d been introduced to the joys of tits behind the cafe. Sadly his interest in Sandra Harper’s ample handful over the natural world around him had, he mused, stifling the yawn that threatened to break his jaw with it’s force, comprehensively failed to prepare him for the level of wild that existed up here, in the back of beyond.

Bloody Merlin, honestly, there was liking your peace and just being a stubborn old bastard about your roots!

Still though, Merlin’s house and the recording studio he’d so carefully created in the basement had become somewhere Eggsy was always grateful to hit, the quiet tranquillity of the place calling to him like a siren’s song after the long, hectic months of touring. God, it really had been months too, he realised numbly, stumbling from the car on legs stiff from hours of inactivity. Two bloody hours, in fact, vanishing in a haze since that incredible opening gig at Wembley and the subsequently LESS awesome things that had resulted in… _Harry_ .

Harry who was stepping out of the car with a ridiculous level of elegance for a man who had been, mere minutes before, dozing peacefully in his seat on the other side of Roxy. Not that you would have known it, since he was now striding to the front door with a knee weakening grin at their host, any hint of sleep long gone.

Two months in the man’s company had done fuck all to moderate the increasing need Eggsy felt to climb him like a tree, to the extent, in fact, that it wasn’t even remotely funny anymore. The nagging need to chat the man up for the fun and possibly get a good night out of it had, instead, morphed into something a great deal deeper. An increasingly unignorable feeling in his chest, something that lingered and grew as the new found, if tentative, friendship they‘d begun in that airport lounge had blossomed. It was slowly becoming something that Eggsy didn’t really want to put a name on.

Naming it seemed like it would involve admitting it was  _A Thing_ and that…yeah, he wasn’t prepared to go there just yet, thanks. Especially since Harry himself had shown no signs of being torn by the situation. Or any signs he was outwardly effected at all, actually. It was a bit bruising to an ego that had become a great deal more used to getting it’s way, if Eggsy were honest!

Harry, in fact, looked collected and relaxed as ever as he held out a hand to Merlin and was promptly yanked into an affectionate hug that had Eggsy’s brows sliding up in surprise,

“Was not expecting that…” he muttered as Roxy dragged herself from the car and stretched beside him.

It took her clearly half asleep self a moment to focus enough to follow his eyes before she shivered, apparently becoming aware of their surroundings by sheer drop in temperature alone,

“ _Hmm?_ Oh they’ve known each other for _years_ , forces mates. Thought I’d said. Fuck…I’d forgotten how bloody cold it gets up here…”

“’Splains a lot…” _Of course_ they had been. Now he’d been told, Eggsy could see the easy grace with which they both moved, the well disguised, but corded muscle hidden beneath Harry’s ridiculously well fitted bloody suits, a sight that that taunted Eggsy daily. All of it signs of a trained, lethal past. 

Idly he found himself wondering how much active service the men, chatting away like the old friends they presumably were, had seen. Had the clear bond between them been formed in the face of gunfire and chaos? Had they struggled their way through training together? How in the hell had they both ended up doing THIS when they’d had whole other lives working for queen and country?! There was a story buried in there and Eggsy found himself suddenly quite interested to hear it.

The sudden image of Harry in uniform struck Eggsy, unexpectedly and right in the gut. A sucker punch of lust both breathtaking and staggeringly hot but in no way conducive to helping Eggsy concentrate on not looking like he was staring, either.

_Bugger._

He was going to have to get a grip on this or end up looking like a total muppet in front of Merlin, a man so perceptive, he could see through Eggsy’s usual line of bullshit even quicker than Roxy!

Oh he was  _very definitely_ in trouble here.

“Come on…” Roxy muttered, tiredly slinging her vast handbag over her shoulder and catching at his arm,

“Let’s get the hell indoors before we both freeze to death. If we’re lucky, Merlin might actually let us SLEEP before work!”

“There y’are you lazy little shite!” Merlin’s greeting was subtle as ever, the edge removed from it by the warm hug Eggsy was enveloped in for a happy moment before he was being steered towards the house. Roxy on one side and Merlin’s arm around his shoulders, amused voice at his ear,

“Get your arse into that studio and show me what you’ve got, lad, times a ticking!”

So much for sleep, then. Bloody slave driver! Still, it was just that nice to walk into that tartan tinted bloody house that Eggsy was prepared to forgive Merlin his constant need to be handed new music. Not least of which because as they passed, Harry threw him a softly amused smile and Eggsy felt his knees go a bit weak.

Tired. He was just tired.

_Fuck._

 

***

 

It wasn’t that Merlin was unreasonable, and this, Eggsy realised dimly, a week into their fortnight’s stay in the house, was more than half the problem. It was just that he would accept nothing less than you bringing your very best to the table and was very  _vocal_ about it if he felt you were half arsing something. Usually, that would have been fine to work with, Eggsy himself being something of a perfectionist, but for some reason, this time, nothing he could do had been good enough for Merlin’s exacting standards.

The worst part was that he was undeniably RIGHT, too.

Hours had passed in a musical blur with a soundtrack of Merlin‘s accent sliding into the realms of impenetrable the longer they worked. It might have actually been days for all Eggsy knew in his painfully blank, utterly wiped out and sleep deprived mind. Certainly bloody felt like it, but still he was failing to find the spark of genius that usually followed him when it came to his music. To call it frustrating would have been the worlds biggest and most irritating of understatements because now, sprawled, belly down and exhausted on the ridiculously soft, worn velvet of the studio sofa, Eggsy was cusping the edge of a tearful moment.

Mercifully for him, everyone else had apparently seen fit to take a break too, leaving him alone with his misery. Great.

Still, they’d yet to completely abandon him since there were quiet sounds of music from the living room above and as he took a shuddering, emotion filled breath, the scent of whisky and log fires in the air. It was so comforting a combination that Eggsy realised he must have fallen asleep there, presumably some time ago too, if the low lights and deliciously warm blanket draped over him were anything to go by!

Probably wasn’t a good sign if you just failed to notice things like conking out cold when you’d only just sat down for a minute’s breather…still, he was awake now and with no small quantity of effort, prying himself upright.

Sitting up was an effort that immediately demonstrated just how quickly he’d gone from awake to asleep. Or maybe, more accurately, how troubled that sleep had been since his t-shirt was all twisted up under one arm and he appeared to be missing a sock…nothing like retaining your dignity then, he sighed, scrubbing a hand over tired face. It was only then that he realised there were voices drifting down to him in accompaniment to the soft music from above and for a moment he paused, head tilting to get his groggy brain up to speed.

“ _You’re going to have the give the boy a break, Merlin. He’s just finished a tour…”_

Harry, as ever his defender even when Eggsy didn’t deserve it, then! The thought left a warm bloom around his heart and he smiled dopily up at the ceiling from his barely conscious sprawl.

“ _Pfft, y’are_ _beyond biased, besides, no one gave us a break when we were that age!”_

The smile fell into ruefully rolled eyes at the sound of such a typical Merlin-ism of a phrase.

“ _I can hardly deny it, but I also seem to remember you being a great deal less sanguine about such things in our youth_ … _”_

“ _Thas’ funny, I remember_ you _telling me to man the fuck up and climb the bloody wall…”_

“ _Good grief, it_ never _ends does it…”_

“ _Broken wrist and three cracked ribs…”_

“ _You’ve been dining out on that one for thirty three bloody years,_ _you old fraud!”_

“ _Still climbed that damn wall and made the jump point…”_

“ _And_ _still whining on about it a lifetime later…”_

Eggsy wasn’t even sure what it was about the undeniably fond little exchange that made him drag himself to his feet, hauling the blanket with him, draped about his shoulders like a tartan Batman. Perhaps it was just the fact that they’d seemed so comfortable in each other’s company and Eggsy was just keen to witness it for himself…or perhaps it was more that Harry’s voice drew him like the proverbial moth to a flame and he was too knackered to resist it. That one was undoubtedly the more likely cause, but either way, the short flight of stairs was conquered with only minimal sleepy stumbles and before he knew it, Eggsy found himself in the doorway.

The fire and whisky he’d smelt from the room below were both out in force, two Chesterfields upholstered in the tartan that Merlin surely owned bloody shares in flanking the fireplace and containing what could really only be described as the most domestic of scenes. One which had Eggsy blinking in tired disbelief, because draped elegantly across one, with her head pillowed on Merlin’s thigh…was a sleeping Roxy. More than that, Merlin’s hand was lovingly stroking her hair in a way that suggested this was not the first, nor would be the last time such a thing occurred and wasn’t that right there just a mind blowing concept?!

Such an out of the blue revelation was it, that it took Eggsy a moment to realise that the other sofa contained  _Harry_ . Relaxed form sprawled into the seat as if he’d melted there, a study in quiet contentment and once that vision in shirtsleeves and undone waistcoat had been seen…well, anything and everything else was forgotten. Just as well, because none of them had noticed him yet and it gave Eggsy the perfect opportunity to drink in his fill of the view, propped up against the doorframe.

Should be criminal, he decided, unable to prevent his eyes raking the slackened body poured into that seat like some lazy big cat at rest. No one person should be that attractive whilst essentially slumped into a knackered sofa with a glass dangling from one, deliciously elegant hand where it’s wrist rested on tartan button padding. Worse still, he was watching the fingers in Roxy’s hair with something that looked very close to a wistful expression in the silence broken only by the crackle of the fire.

Made sense, Eggsy found himself agreeing, everyone loved Roxy, she was the single most capable person his age that he’d ever met, which didn’t even mention that she had mad skills with a Playstation controller and was just… _awesome_ .

Hell if it didn’t make his chest ache like a right bitch though.

Unable to stand the sight any longer he forced himself to take a step forward. Stumbling out of the shadows with a great deal less grace than he would have liked, he managed a little wave, voice a sleep roughened mumble,

“I miss a party?”

Pale eyes snapped to him so quickly, Eggsy felt himself start in shock because whatever Harry had been feeling whilst watching Merlin pet Roxy like a cat was apparently long gone now. Instead, once he‘d spotted Eggsy‘s blanketed self, there was that knee weakening little smile blossoming into something a great deal more welcoming. The mere appearance of it soothed the pang he’d felt somewhere under his ribs and before he even knew it, he was three steps closer and having to forcibly pull himself short of curling into the just… _him_ shaped gap made by Harry’s arm across the back of the sofa.

Bloody Roxy, out cold and still giving him ideas because  _wow_ , he would have given his winged Adidas just to fall asleep on Harry with that much ease.

Sadly that was a pipe dream if ever there was one, and he wasn’t dumb fuck enough to ruin what he did have, thank you very much. Instead, he settled himself as far along the sofa as possible, burying himself in his blanket and hoping the pink in his cheeks could be passed off as warmth from the fire. Judging by the assessing, narrowed eyed look Merlin was giving him, it hadn’t worked, but at least Harry had gone back to gazing into the flames and that tempting arm had been moved back to his lap.

“If I throw a party, lad…” Merlin finally said, the merest rise of a brow indicating all that was needed,

“You’ll _know_. This is just old war horses getting pissed.”

“Don’t reckon Rox’d appreciate that description, bruv!“ Eggsy replied, unable to resist the warm tease in the tone and replying with his own as he nodded at the whisky bottle on the table,

“Gimme a glass of that and I might hold off on telling her you called her a knackered old nag, yeah?”

Merlin’s snort of laughter actually caused the woman in question to stir a little, delicate frown marring her face briefly before the hand in her hair had smoothed the disturbance from her again.

“You’re a cheeky shit, I’ll give you that…” Merlin finally muttered, some several degrees quieter as he carefully made sure he wasn’t about to wake Roxy before leaning over to pour a single, mean finger into a spare glass. He spared it a grudging extra drip or two before holding it out with an impatient waggle in Eggsy’s direction,

“Here, take yer damn bribe and keep yer mouth shut or I‘ll hide your master tapes!”

Grin firmly in place, it was an easy stretch across the gap to take the offered drink and raise it in a toast to his producer,

“What do old war horses talk about then?”

“Mostly bullshit andboasting about their past.” Was the immediate and wholly unexpected reply from Merlin’s lap, Roxy opening her eyes just enough to throw each of them a knowing look before she rolled over and curled back up, face buried in Merlin’s hip,

“Get them to tell you about Morocco since they‘re feeling chatty…” her last words before her breathing levelled back out and Merlin was left watching her with what Eggsy could only describe as a loving expression. 

Right then. He’d be asking Roxy about that one later on and no mistake!

“You KNOW I’m gonna ask now…so…” he said quickly, mind already working over time on what it could possibly involve when it was clear from twin, downcast heads that no one was going to cough it up willingly, 

“What happened in MOROCCO?!”

 

***

 

“You did NOT…” Eggsy spluttered, mid sip of his third… _fourth_ …whisky? It was all a bit of a haze, if he were honest, since he’d stumbled into the conversation and inexplicably persuaded Merlin and Harry to start on the tales of their past. Quite how the evening had taken this unexpected turn, he wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t about to knock it because for the first time since they’d arrived, he was finally feeling himself relax.

Probably the sheer quantity of whisky sloshing about in his blood stream, soaked up only by the late night sandwiches Merlin had produced, as if by magic, mid story, but it might also have been the fact that it was just flat out FUN. That was something that had been in rather short supply in recent months, the constant Groundhog Day elements of touring internationally tended to sap the joy out of a day, and whilst Eggsy had loved it all…well…it was just nice to take a break!

“Oh yes we did…” Merlin cackled from his increasingly slumped sprawl beneath Roxy’s still sleeping self. At least, her eyes were shut and if, every now and then at a particularly funny moment, her mouth quirked up, no one was going to question it.

“ _And_ we took the tank back afterwards like good little soldiers too!”

“Because it was either that or walk the five miles back in the snow…” Harry’s rather more wry addition just served to spur on Eggsy’s high spirits at the absurdity of the story and with a breathless wheeze of laughter, he felt himself tip sideways.

Quite when it had been that he’d edged his way across the gap between them he wasn’t sure, but it was very definitely gone altogether now because he’d slumped inelegantly right into Harry’s side. More heart-stoppingly amazing even than that, Harry hadn’t even flinched. In fact, he’d just lifted his arm to rest along the back of the sofa behind them, just  _letting_ Eggsy fit himself into the gap, curled against his chest.

If he concentrated, and through that much booze with minimal food, it was quite the effort, Eggsy suspected he could actually feel the warmth of Harry’s fingers idly toying with the blanket at his shoulder. He could DEFINITELY feel every inch of warm torso propping him up. It was…bloody  _lovely_ is what it was, and swiftly rendering it an impossible task to try and ignore when the man was just a giant cuddle waiting to happen. Definitely helped that Harry apparently had no qualms about it, either, which, after months of never showing a hint of… _this_ …was delicious!

Somewhere off to the side, the clunk of the CD changer indicated a new soundtrack to the moment, Merlin’s complete denial that digital copies of music were  _A Thing_ ensuring that any variety of listening done outside of the studio would be peppered with that noise. It had become a pleasingly old school sign of being home for Eggsy and at the thunk, he felt his giggles ease into merely a grin, awaiting the new tune as the quiet words continued around him.

“ _My god that was a feckin’ cold journey home…”_

“ _I did tell you at the time we should have commandeered the general’s Jaguar, but you were quite determined…”_

“ _It was a TANK, Harry, you dinnae turn down chances like that!”_

Eclectic didn’t really cover Merlin’s music collection (and apparently list of vehicles he’d driven) so you were never sure what you were going to get when he hit play on the remote. The evenings music thus far had been an unpredictable, free flowing selection running from jazz to country and everything in between. It came as no surprise to Eggsy, then, when the CD whirred to life and something entirely different again kicked up. Harry, however, actually  _flinched._ Enough, in fact, to cause the hand on the back of the sofa to finally give up any pretence of  _not_ being on Eggsy’s shoulder, curling around it with an unconscious flex of fingers.

It was reaction enough for Eggsy to lift his head from it‘s comfortable position on Harry‘s shoulder. Tipsy smile spread over his face as he leaned back just enough to cast a questioning look at the face above him without actually removing himself from what was the closest thing he was going to get to a cuddle from the man.

“It’s his favourite…” Merlin said with a nod to the stereo in explanation. Which, well, it was more information than Harry had ever volunteered and Eggsy decided it should probably have his full attentions as a result. Sadly that meant _concentrating_ , so he frowned his way through the pleasantly warm buzz of alcohol and proximity tohisglorious bodyguard enough to force his brain into gear and _listen_.

Harry, it seemed, would rather that had not been revealed because there was a distinct flush to his cheeks that Eggsy immediately found himself wanting to kiss. Curiously, the urge was tempered not by his own ability to resist inappropriate moments, but by the sudden beat of inspiration that thrummed to life in his mind. A pulse of creativity that had flatlined earlier kicking out a steady rhythm again in the midst of the most unexpected of situations.

What if, he found himself thinking ten to the dozen,  _what if_ he could do a whole album of this?! A full on nod to the influences of the music he listened to, the music his friends listened to, the things that had made them all what they were today!

That…that was actually a really GOOD idea…and immediately he sprang into movement.

The scrabble forward and, depressingly,  _out_ of that gorgeous cuddle was sudden and for a moment, he teetered on the edge of the sofa, hands grappling for a pen and paper. Then Harry had caught him, quick hands at his hips before Eggsy had slithered clean off the cushions and his head snapped up, beaming grin firmly in place. In the background, he was suddenly more than aware of The Platters continuing their way through a crackling rendition of Only You,

“Got an idea!” he said giddily, mind already working through the possibilities even as he got a bit lost in Harry‘s ridiculously pretty eyes,

“You’re a GENIUS Harry! Ta!”

He didn’t actually register the kiss he’d pressed with gleeful exhilaration to Harry’s mouth until long after it was done and he was already back in the studio, guitar in hand and half a song already written. Once the memory had settled, it was all he could do not to grin like a muppet for a good hour.

He was BEYOND fucked and was really struggling to find a reason that was a bad thing…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get two chapters today cos the social media one was short ;-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which idiots stumble around eachother a bit and there is romance in the air!

Eggsy was beginning to think he’d taken up residence on that bloody sofa. This was the second time in twenty four hours he’d woken up on it now and the crick in his neck was firmly protesting the thought of a third. Blearily, he allowed his back a glorious, arching stretch and very nearly fell right off his impromptu bed when Roxy’s voice interrupted it with an audible raise to her brows.

“Oh good, it lives!”

“Rox? What time s‘it…no wait…what _day_ is it?!” he muttered, rolling awkwardly and eventually discovering her to be curled into the mixing desk chair, headphones dangling about her neck like gigantic, ugly pearls.

Huh.

A quick flick of his admittedly less than awake eyes to the screens showed the tracks he’d laid down on his own last night…might have been the night before, creative bursts were always a bit…vague. Either way, she was listening to his new stuff and Eggsy was suddenly very aware he’d had no outside opinions on any of it yet, despite endless hours of work. Historically for him, that was not good. That way tended to lie distinctly over indulgent rubbish being recorded at 2am that in the morning made him cringe at the ‘best song I ever wrote‘ file name that made Merlin cackle like a drain.

“Don’t worry, it’s Tuesday morning, you didn’t zone out that hard!” Roxy smirked, propping her chin on her fist, elbow comfortably sunk into the soft leather arm of Merlin’s desk chair, 

“And for what it’s worth, all of this is really good. _R_ _eally_ good, Eggs!”

“…Yeah?” The relief was evident in his tone andhe was far too out of it to attempt hiding it **.** Besides, Roxy had never once lied to him about…well, anything, actually! It was one of her more brilliant qualities if he were honest, rating right up there alongside her ability to smell bullshit at 100 paces and the fact that she could see straight into his head and just _know_ when he needed her.

In fact, in a world of people willing to say yes to him to get on his good side, there was Roxy, more than willing to tell him when he’d been a twat and he couldn’t have loved her more for it.

“S’just, I had this idea and…I got a bit caught up…” He added, shoving the heel of his hand into one gritty eye to scrub the sleep clear as he sat up. He was destined to be a scruffy mess in two day old clothes and a jaw in serious need of a razor on this bloody trip.

“I never would have guessed, you hid it so incredibly well when you kissed Harry and ran out the room…” Roxy’s deadpan was notoriously lethal and all at once Eggsy felt himself giggle, the inherent SILLY in the situation rising up like a geyser. From nowhere, or rather, that place deep within his creatively worn out body that was still a twelve year old that couldn’t believe this was his life, the laughter rose until they were both giggling like kids at Saturday morning cartoons.

“Yeahhhh…” Eggsy groaned eventually, slumping straight back into the sofa with a grin that refused to leave his face,

“I didn’t even think about it, I just… _did_ it…”

Which was probably the majority of the issue, wasn’t it? People didn’t just  _kiss_ other people without reason. Not the ones they were just  _friends_ with, anyway. Mind you, he hadn’t exactly been the only one participating in some non-work suitable behaviour that evening…

Lurching back up wasn’t his most sensible of moves after that much whisky, barely any food and exceedingly patchy sleep, but nonetheless, Eggsy felt it absolutely needed. The slightly shaky, very definitely accusing finger pointed at Roxy’s startled face was too,

“Wait a minute…you and _Merlin_?!”

There was, and Eggsy almost doubted his eyes for a moment because…what the fuck, but there were  _definitely_ pink patches on Roxy’s cheeks. A guilty, flushed stain.

Shit.

_SHIT._

“Shut. UP. You are NOT fuckin’ Merlin?! ARE YOU?! ROX! You DOG!”

“No I am not, thank you and keep your bloody voice _down_!” She hissed quickly, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling, listening for the tell tale sounds of footsteps that never came.

Apparently content they weren’t about to be interrupted by the subjects of their conversation, Roxy cast him a raised browed look  of warning and smoothed the hair back from her face with studied nonchalance,

“It’s a work in progress…” 

“Oh yeah?” Eggsy’s grin was vast and irrepressible at this new found information, leaning forward in his seat to catch his quarries eyes as they studiously avoided his own,

“And just how much _progress_ 'as been made on that _work_?!”

He was entirely risking life and limb here, pushing someone as likely to shank you as Roxy on subjects she was clearly not ready to speak about, but hell if it wasn’t worth it just to see the smile she failed miserably to hide! Seemed like he’d missed something really bloody obvious there, then?! It was a nice thought too, all in, the concept that two of the people he loved most in the world had managed to find something together. Sodding tours, they sucked all the time out of your days and robbed you of seeing things like budding relationships between your best mates develop under your nose!

“None of your bloody business!” Was her pink cheeked if grinning reply, before she was dumping the headphones off and sliding from her chair to drop into the sofa next to him,

“You want to tell me about you and Harry now or when I have to sort a press release? Because now would obviouslybe better for me in terms of time to mock you from afar…”

A snort of laughter escaped Eggsy as he slumped into her side, dropping his head to her shoulder and wriggling until he could settle more comfortably, propped against her,

“Nothing to tell, mate, don’t reckon he’s interested.”

Try as he might, the pout was still evident in that mumbled reply. Enough, in fact, that Roxy’s hand rose to ruffle his hair as she gave her driest reply,

“Work in progress too, is it?”

If ever there was a time Eggsy was pleased to see Merlin ducking into the room via the low frame of the door, it was that moment. Saved by the wizard based work bell once again and grateful for it he was too, even if he was immediately fixed with a firm stare,

“You…” Merlin said, one long finger pointed squarely at Eggsy’s nose,

“Get your arse in the shower while I listen to what you put down last night. I can smell you from here…youth of today, no feckin’ standards, swannin’ about, kippin' on couches…”

Right then, no rest for the…not-really-free-enough-to-be-wicked…

“This conversation is not done…” Roxy hissed with a threatening grin as he slunk away and Eggsy failed entirely to resist the victorious, swift two fingers salutedin her direction as he legged it up the stairs to hisescape.

 

***

 

One lazy shower later and Eggsy was snagging himself a third bowl of Coco Pops, perched on the edge of the kitchen table with crossed ankles swinging. He was resolutely not thinking about how much shorter that shower would have been without the extended and exceedingly self indulgent time he gave himself to consider what kissing Harry properly would have been like. Or what his mind had helpfully filled in after the kissing part either. Or the bit where he just gave in to temptation, his extremely interested cock in soapy hand…

God, he was so fucked. And not in the good way, despite his body’s very determined twitch of interest at the memory.

Mercifully he was saved from any further falling into that pit of never ending lust by the sound of his own voice echoing distantly up from the basement. Short little snippets, the odd lyric that was played and then replayed in different ways. Merlin was already hacking the shit out of the exceedingly rough recordings from the whirlwind of inspiration, then. It didn’t, Eggsy was forced to admit around a mouthful of cereal, sound all that bad. Evidently Merlin had been happy enough with it to start fiddling about. Tempo’s were changing every now and then, the odd section being repeated to listen to over again, all encouraging signs that his nights work hadn’t been wasted.

“It sounded rather good, from what I heard through the floor last night...”

It was only his chocolate saving reflexes that managed to rescue the bowl in his hands from diving to the floor at the sound of Harry's voice behind him. Of course, once Eggsy had whipped round to the doorway, he was once again reminded of that bloody shower because... _damn_ . Was there ever going to be a morning where the man didn't look like he'd stepped out of sodding GQ centrefold?! How the fuck did anyone manage to look that suave at any given time in some barely watertight shed in Scotland?!

Not for the first time, Eggsy pondered the concept that Merlin's name was rather more descriptive than first imagined because there was surely some weird, producer based magic occurring for Harry to continually walk around like Eggsy's own, personal wet dream. Even out of the suits, the man seemed to just ooze quiet elegance and today's ensemble, some ridiculously expensive shirt and tailored to perfection trousers were not helping Eggsy's sanity.

_Shit._

“Good morning.” Harry continued with that infuriatingly hot little smile that made his eyes twinkle as they roamed Eggsy's suddenly very tense form. Apparently he managed to hide the ongoing inner battle to just stay sat right there and front out the impending cringe-fest over that kiss-that-wasn't-a-kiss thing, because Harry merely quirked a politely questioning brow at him as he reached for the teapot,

“Would you like some?”

Well. That was quite the question wasn't it, because Jesus Christ it had gone straight to Eggsy's gut in a way that made the CocoPops fizz pleasantly. He was imagining it, wasn't he. There was no way that Harry, straight laced, perfect gent of a bodyguard Harry was throwing double entendre into the room over tea and cereal. Shit like that didn't happen in real life.

Mind you, shit like becoming an international music sensation didn't usually happen in real life either and Eggsy had rather nailed that one already...still though, nahhh...

“Er...yeah...ta...” He managed after a forced clearing of suddenly dry throat and a wriggle on the table that at least made him look a LITTLE less like he was drooling into his cereal. He might have had to style out the fact that he'd turned toward Harry like some fucking flower desperately seeking the sun, too. 

“Got a bit inspired by that song from last night, sorry for dashin' off 'n all that...”

Hopefully the unspoken 'and for planting one on your not interested self before I legged it' would be obvious, because right at that moment, Eggsy had zero capacity for more words...and a lot of less than PG mental images still willing to rampage in front of his eyes. At this rate, he was going to have to go and lock himself in his bedroom for a bit before he could even bloody concentrate again!

“Did it help? It sounded like you found your stride.” Harry asked, perfectly innocent crinkle at the sides of his eyes happily in place as he set about pouring the tea into...seriously Merlin, tartan mugs...Jesus…

Fuck it, he was going to have to get a grip here or end up looking like a complete tit. Well, alright, MORE of a complete tit. Which was not to say that watching Harry's ridiculously beautiful hands fussing with the tea wasn't currently being added to Eggsy's increasingly comprehensive spank bank. He wasn't DEAD, for fucks sake, but still, words were needed!

“Yeah...” he began around the final mouthful of cereal shoved into his face before he could say something deeply stupid and ruin everything,

“I had this idea of doing it old school, ya know?”

He paused then, both to celebrate the victory of actually managing to speak without the words 'you should fuck me now' escaping, and also that he'd managed to find a way to explain the sudden concept that had smacked him between the eyes that night.

The bright grin that graced his face when at last he dumped his bowl to the table and lifted his eyes to Harry's, however, swiftly dimmed when he blinked at the sudden darkness he found staring back at him. It took him a moment or two to parse the unexpected thing because...well,  _that_ , he realised with a warm burn low in his gut, was an expression he was very used to seeing. Granted, it was usually on the faces of young girls in the front row, not gorgeous, much older than him bodyguards, but nonetheless, that was a look Eggsy knew inside out because THAT was LUST.

Sadly it vanished almost as soon as he'd glimpsed it, and Harry was back to fiddling with the tea again, eyes back on the pot he was pouring from and leaving Eggsy blinking in shock behind him.

So...not as uninterested as first thought then?! Also apparently very much a fan of aforementioned double entendre. Alright, he could work with that!

“D'you hear me laying it down last night, then?” He purred, letting his legs fall open as he sprawled back, propped up with hands flat on the table behind him. He wasn't daft, he'd been told enough times he wasn't hard on the eyes and whilst he was suddenly on a footing a great deal more sure than anything he'd felt around Harry before, Eggsy was quite content to use anything likely to sway the situation in his favour. Mainly because this? This he could handle! 

Alright it wasn't exactly the L word he had an appalling feeling was actually the one making his chest warm every time Harry was anywhere near him,  but Eggsy was not one to turn down any opportunity afforded to him. In this instance, he was going to bloody well run with it, in fact!

“Decided I was gonna do a whole album like that.” He continued, not even needing to hear an answer whilst he revelled in the swift trip down his open, slack body that Harry's eyes made. It was a happy bonus that there wasa delicious, soft pink gracing the man’s cheeks before his attentions were returned to dosing the tea with milk and sugar.

This was fucking  _aces_ !

Apparently Harry had rallied himself enough to pass over the mug of tea without so much as even a hint of the previous blush. That gorgeous, heavy lidded glimpse into the man Eggsy had been afforded before was sadly also missing.

Bugger.

So impassive was Harry's face, in fact, as he steadily met Eggsy's gaze with tea in hand, that momentarily he wondered if he'd imagined it all. Then, just as he was about to drop it and go back to the cringe inducing realisation that he'd read the signals wrong, Harry was suddenly very,  _very_ close. Stepped up and definitely beyond the point of casual conversation, crowding into Eggsy's personal space to the extent that he was stood in the gap created by Adidas covered, spread thighs. Better still, he was watching his prey with a hawk like gaze that was making Eggsy go warm all over…

“Something akin to Amy Winehouse?”

He was standing  _right there_ , so close that Eggsy was forced to lean back a smidge whilst inhaling an edible combination of Harry's spicy aftershave and the wafting, perfume of tea as he sucked in an uneven breath. Because  _fuck…_

Up close and personal in every possible sense, and just...carrying on their little chat like he wasn't currently in the perfect bloody position to lean in and shove them both back. Like he couldn't just move his hand a half inch and have it curled around Eggsy's twitching thigh. Like Eggsy wasn't just  _mush_ , waiting for a kiss he had a feeling would probably ruin him for all them groupies and any Slavic princesses likely to appear in his future…

“Don't reckon I can hit them high notes, guv...” he choked out, unable to prevent the grin sliding up the corner of his mouth at the sheer, unexpected glory of it all.

“Well you're going to bloody well try...” Because of _course_ Merlin would choose that _precise_ moment to appear in the door, Grumpy Face No.12 on display as he headed for the tea and, heartbreakingly, caus ing Harry to vacate his custom made space between Eggsy's legs like a soldier snapping to attention.

Buggering fuck.

“The middle eight on that fourth track is a fucking shambles,lad! Get your arse downstairs and sort it out.” Merlin continued, frowning grimly at the cup he'd poured before lifting it to sniff at gingerly,

“And who the fuck brought _EARL FUCKING GREY_ into my house?!”

 

***

 

Slinking back down to the studio had been the cowards way out and no mistake, but in the face of Merlin's tea based rantings and Harry's inability to look him in the eye, Eggsy had given up the kitchen as a bad lot and done as he'd been ordered. Probably for the best, he decided, glumly sinking into the sofa for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Roxy was likely to cut his bollocks off for attempting to shag the staff and Merlin...yeah, that didn't bear thinking about. With a sigh, he reached for the much scribbled upon pad of paper that contained his lyrics, spare hand grabbing his guitar as he settled in to attempt to fix the section Merlin had circled so hard in red biro that the paper was torn.

This was always the issue when bursts of creativity appeared out of nowhere, huge swathes of music would be written in the space of a few, scant hours, none of it anywhere near refined or often even all that good. Worse still, Eggsy would have very little memory of it once done beyond the nagging feeling that this chord would follow that one and maybe he could wedge in that lyric there. It was an abstract and slightly mind boggling process, made worse by the fact that in order to relax enough to write, he was usually three sheets to the wind and re-reading his drunken notes when sober was like trying to translate the Rosetta Stone. Doable, but not exactly  _easy_ !

Still, once he'd forced his mind to focus on something other than Harry's warmth practically on top of him, Eggsy had actually made decent progress, twiddling away with anything Merlin had marked with his copious Red Pen of Doom until, at last, he reached the end of his scrawled writing. Of course, by that point, his mind had helpfully slithered into tunnel vision, the one where nothing else in the world existed beyond the music and writing. To the extent that he barely registered the coming and going of people from the room.

At some point, Merlin had appeared and in a haze of what Roxy always called his 'creative zone out', Eggsy had actually managed to record, miraculously, in-one-take-each moments of genius, five songs for the new album. At least, he had a vague feeling it was five. Might have been eight for all he knew because time had stilled as he'd gone back to noodling with the guitar again. The ebb and flow of life continuing around him, an unnoticed tide in the edges of his peripheral vision.

It was only when he caught himself stumbling over a tricky few notes that he felt a hand on his arm and Roxy's gentlest of voices saying that maybe he should take a break and eat something. When, in fact, had he last seen daylight? Which were all valid questions, but still, they did take Eggsy several long blinks and a little head shake to fathom at all after so long immersed in the inner workings of his musical mind.

Apparently his silence and confusion laden face said enough for him, however, since the guitar was gently removed from him and her voice was softer still when she spoke again,

“Oh Eggs, you massive plonker. I'll get you something to eat, ok, just stay there for a bit and see if you can find your brain for me.”

With nothing more than a reassuring pat to his knee, she was gone and Eggsy was left blinking myopically in the low light of the studio with a strange sense of deja vu and muscles that were starting to protest at the continued activity of playing. Jesus, he was really going to have to learn to take breaks when writing, it was fucking unsettling to find yourself completely unable to name what day it was or when you'd last even noticed a clock…  never mind that his hands felt stuck in a guitar shape forever more and his back was screaming to be moved.

“Is it always like that, when you write?”

The question was quiet, pitched, Eggsy knew, deliberately to be as unobtrusive as possible in the hush that had fallen on the room and it took him a moment or two to even register that it had been Harry's voice. When at last his brain caught up with his ears, he gave his face a quick scrub with aching hand and managed a half smile, dropping his head to the pillowy softness of the sofa back as his eyes slid shut,

“What, batshit and forgetting to eat?” He replied, unable to stop the affection from creeping into his voice when he was just so bloody knackered and Harry...well, he'd flirted _back_ , hadn't he! That moment in the kitchen flooding back into Eggsy's memory in a warm pool that made his smile slide firmly into grin territory. If he happened to allow his body to relax into a luxurious and maybe a little bit teasing stretch, well, no harm no foul, right?

“Pretty much, yeah!”

“I was going to call it _intense_ , but far be it from me to correct the world famous lyricist on wording...” And there was laughter in that voice now, enough that Eggsy dragged his head back up to find Harry already sliding with ridiculous, elegant ease into the sofa beside him.

There was a smile tugging at his edible bloody mouth, turning the edges up just enough to demonstrate amusement in the kind of effortless show of charm that only Harry could have managed. It made Eggsy want to lick it just to see if it tasted as good as it looked, and for a second or two, he allowed himself the time to just stare at it with the heat he felt pooling in his gut undoubtedly visible in his gaze. Clearly he was beyond fucking knackered if he thought he had anything like the energy needed to do Harry justice right then, but hell if he wasn't tempting all the same.

Tempting, achingly close and, slightly stunningly, lifting an arm to curl around Eggsy's shoulders so that he could slump with grateful sigh into what amounted to the worlds most unexpected, yet incredibly welcomed, cuddle. God it was lovely too, his exhausted body sinking into Harry's as if he were the softest of mattresses, the bliss of it merely intensifying when he felt long fingers stroke through the crop of his hair.

“You haven't slept properly in weeks, have you, idiot boy...” Harry murmured, nails scratching at Eggsy's scalp with just the right amount of pressure to make it utterly impossible to hold back on the soft groan of pleasure that escaped him. 

Somewhere, in the dim recesses of his worn out head, he was suddenly very grateful no one else was there to see this. Not that he was entirely sure what  _this_ was, but he knew it was making a toasty, happy home somewhere in his chest and not for the first time, he was aware that being around Harry was inspiring... _feelings_ ...and not just the kind that originated below his belt. Bastard. Gorgeous, delicious, sex in a suit Harry and his lovely fucking hands who could cuddle like no one else and make everything seem ok, even when Eggsy was beyond the point where sleep was anything less than an inevitability that would occur sooner rather than later.

God, he was  _brilliant_ , quietly chuckling at the purring noise that was apparently coming from Eggsy himself and Eggsy? Oh he was very  _definitely_ beyond saving now.

Even thinking it made him frown and he was painfully aware that in the very dim, distant future, he would probably have to do something about that, but right now... _well_ . Practically in Harry's lap and already three quarters of the way towards a sleep he hadn't even realised he needed, Eggsy could not have given less of a shit...as long as Harry didn't let him go.  T hat would be  _bad_ . Bad enough, in fact, that the prospect of it brought his hand up to fist pathetically in Harry's shirt, insurance that he couldn't just up and leave as Eggsy wriggled into a more comfortable position and settled in. Fuck the consequences, he was comfy, Harry was apparently happy to allow him this, and frankly, Eggsy wanted his damn cuddle!

“Roxy will want you to eat something when she comes back...” the low voice was murmuring into his hair and Eggsy gave a disgruntled huff against...jesus, that shirt was silk, wasn't it, because of course Harry would only allow the finest to grace his skin.

Idly, Eggsy wondered if that sort of discretion would also exclude the hands and tongue of a chav from the shit end of south London before dismissing it without a second thought. If Harry had a problem with it, he'd not be sat there acting as a human chair, after all.

“Tough...m'comfy, eat later.” he muttered.

“Alright, go to sleep you little brat.” Harry's little huff of amusement breezed over his head and Eggsy grinned happily, the edges of sleep creeping in and making him muzzier by the second,

“You love it...”

It was entirely possible, drifting on the line of sleep for a moment before he finally went under, that he'd imagined the sigh under his cheek and wry murmur from above, but it was lovely either way, so he was going to take it.

“Distressingly, I really do...”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things get warmer and Eggsy makes his case...

Waking up with no clue what day it was or where you were was swiftly becoming a habit Eggsy was getting heartily sick of. As he gingerly cracked open his eyes, at least one of those questions was solved and he released a grunt of recognition as realisation dawned. That sodding studio was starting to be his endless bloody hell, a groundhog day of epically boring proportions. This was _surely_ the third day in a row he'd woken to find his first glimpse filled with a mixing desk and the low lights of a basement...

He might have bothered to attempt to drag himself upright in protest had he not then registered the fact that he was a lot more comfortable than the tired old springs under velvet normally made him. In fact, now he thought about it, and an experimental fidget confirmed it beautifully, he wasn't actually lying on said sofa...he was, it appeared, sprawled into glorious, pressing contact with a body underneath him. A solid, really _tasty_ feeling body that had stirred enough when he moved to drag him in a little bit tighter and _nuzzle him_...Jesus Christ that was just lovely...

Lovely enough, in fact, that he was more than willing to oblige the hands that cuddled him in, burying his face into the warmth of a sandalwood scented neck to release a contented sigh. He may also have melted a bit more than could possibly be called _cool_. Which was fine, cool was a thing he had to pretend to be on stage, not when he was hazy warm and so ridiculously comfortable. Not when, he added dopily, he had nowhere to be. No reason to move, either, beyond the slightly distracting morning wood he was ignoring in favour of being hugged and the delicious knowledge that Harry had stayed. All night, if the murky light filtering down the stairs was any indication...which couldn't be any good for his back…

“Stop wriggling...” The sleep hoarse, affection filled purr went, unfortunately for Eggsy, straight to his suddenly much more interested cock. It did also have the added downside of waking him up fully and making him shift back a bit just out of politeness too, of course. Hardly the done thing to just rub up on your bodyguard of a morning just because he'd been good enough to act as your personal mattress all night, was it!

Harry, however, was apparently having none of that, since the hand that had been lazily draped over Eggsy's hip tightened and stilled him, pressing him back into humiliatingly obvious contact again without a care in the world,

“It's the crack of bloody dawn and I haven't done five am wake up calls since the army. Go back to sleep, you fidgetybrat.”

The grin split Eggsy's face even through the twinge of embarrassment at being caught out quite so obviously, and he stifled the laugh that threatened to erupt by turning his face into the warm skin under it,

“Yes _sir_...” he smirked into the darkness, allowing himself a moment of triumph at the slight tension that went through Harry at his words.

He wasn't above using any advantage he could get in the situation, quite frankly, and if the man was going to keep giving him such obvious cues, well, Eggsy was more than happy to abuse them thoroughly! Mind you, he'd had a point about the time and as a huge yawn escaped, Eggsy gave up any pretense of being fully awake again, letting himself go slack. It was a happy and added bonus that doing so also happened to effectively turn him into Harry's living blanket.

Which was a thing, actually, because at some time during the night, someone had evidently provided them with a _real_ one, and some of the fluffy pillows Merlin populated all the beds Eggsy was still a stranger to.

In fact, now he was actually taking everything in a bit, he was also reasonably sure that he was missing his hoodie. That Harry was also missing his cufflinks and watch, presumably removed when he'd performed some form of miracle with the cushions to ensure that neither one of them were lying on the uncomfortable, pinged springs. It was all so... _domestic_ and just so fucking lovely that Eggsy felt that familiar twinge in his chest again.

He was so far gone it was fucking ridiculous!

“Oh shut up...” Harry muttered, settling himself in right up against the body sprawled over him, the smile evident in his voice as he absently tilted his head to press a warm, dry lipped kiss to Eggsy's forehead. A deadweight with a contented sigh and eyes that remained firmly closed throughout,

“I wasn't going to attempt carrying your heavy arse upstairs so you owe me at least another two hours of sleep. _Shush_.”

“What if I'm a morning person and wanna go on like...a four mile run?” Eggsy mumbled through his grin, more than pleased to let his happiness at the whole unexpected glory of the situation bleed into the words. It didn't, mind you, stop him fisting his hands back into Harry's utterly ruined silk shirt, completely destroying any hope of the words being taken as truth in the process.

Couldn't be too careful, after all. Better to be clear about it. Just in case Harry _actually_ thought he wanted to move.

_Ever._

Not, apparently, that he needed to worry one iota about that particular issue, because Harry just huffed a breath of laughter against his forehead and lifted one hand to settle in the scruffy mess of Eggsy's hair, gently and effectively pinning him in place,

“Tough...” his barely above a whisper voice rumbled into the warmth,

“ _I'm comfy_.”

 _Well_. Who was Eggsy to disagree with his own more than sound logic when it was repeated back to him in such delicious tones?! Especially when sleep was a hazy thing swiftly creeping up on him again and Harry was so ridiculously perfect to lie on…

 

*

Memory when you were a bit overtaxed, was a strange thing, Eggsy decided, allowing himself a vast, all encompassing stretch that managed to reach every inch of him and setting sleep slackened muscles into pleasant little tingles and his jaw crack on an epic yawn. Awareness of his surroundings were beginning to filter back into his dulled senses enough to tell him that for once, he actually wasn't in the bloody studio anymore! Points to him for making it up to a bed, then. Awesome.

Except...there was a definite and frankly delicious memory of Harry percolating into his muggy head, because they had very definitely fallen asleep together on that sodding sofa, hadn't they? There had been blankets and a glorious cuddle that Harry, gorgeous, increasingly fuckable, _Harry_ , had dragged him back in to when Eggsy had moved to get up…and then, later, sometime when light had worked it's way down even to the basement they'd sprawled in, there had been tea, and toast he'd eaten in a sleep deprived daze.

At the mere thought, his stomach gave a hungry growl and Eggsy frowned into the low lit warmth as it all began to make sense, mind once again finding the missing section of time. A sleep dopey blur of being helped up the stairs, barely awake after his impromptu breakfast. Of Harry with amusement rife in his eyes, tucking him into the bed he was now sprawled gracelessly over, pressing a kiss to his forehead and telling him to stop pushing himself. A hand in Eggsy's hair for a few, purr inducing strokes before it was gone and there had merely been much happier dreams and the knowledge that he'd not only managed to finish an album whilst effectively running on fumes, but also got to cuddle Harry.

Stretched out as he was, belly down and surrounded by the scent of the man on his clothes, Eggsy was entirely unsure which of those two achievements he was most pleased with. The interested little twitch his cock gave at the thought of it, however, rather said it shouldn't be the album he should care about right that minute! Well, he'd never been one to deny himself the simple pleasures in life so why start now?!He smirked into his pillow, shoving the trackies he still wore down to his thighs and settling himself more comfortably with a roll of hips into the softness under him.

It was a crying bloody shame, how long he'd been without now! Dirty princesses aside, Eggsy was struggling to remember the last time he'd pulled and it was mixing unignorably with his increasing and much denied need to just climb Harry like a fucking tree. It was starting to get a bit ridiculous, really! Between recording and the fact that his schedule was packed tighter than a rush hour tube, there hadn't really been much opportunity to do much more than fall asleep on the man. Not that Eggsy was complaining, because that had been bloody lovely and given him the best kip he'd had in months, but Jesus, what he wouldn't give for a decent night off to just get his sticky paws into Harry's pristine suits.

The thought alone caused a surge of lust in Eggsy and he groaned into his pillow as his hips sped up just enough to drag the insanely high thread count sheets tantalisingly against his aching flesh.

If there was anything he'd learned about staying at Merlin's house, it was that everything was soundproofed amazingly well. Well enough, in fact, that if he felt like re-living that early morning wake up with some added _embellishment_ from his thoroughly active imagination...well, no one was likely to know. Just as well, he grinned, hand already worming it's way between his hip and the bed, because god knew he had a lot to _voice_ about Harry sodding Hart and his kissable mouth.

The dreams he'd enjoyed in the short time since Harry had left him in the bed, depressingly alone, began to happily replay across his still slightly sleep addled mind and with a grunt at the effort, he threw himself onto his back to arch into his own grip. The things he'd do to that man given half a chance...he was spoilt for bloody choice on where to start, quite frankly. Best, he decided, quick fingers already slick with his bodies own over exuberance increasing the pace, to begin at the top and work his way down.

He could very definitely live with that, tasting every scrap of skin Harry let him near, starting with that bloody mouth that Eggsy was definitely starting to have determined and exceedingly detailed fantasies about. The mere concept of kissing it had become an obsession, the warm, wet slide of tongues and the lingering taste of whisky on both of their lips. Would Harry let him just carry on down? Dragging his tongue over the ridges and furrows of a body that Eggsy could picture with much greater clarity now he'd spent an evening draped over it. Would he let him nip at a hip, press his fingers into the flesh on show there before he finally, _finally_ got his mouth around the velvetty warmth of Harry's cock...swallow around it until he was rewarded with hands in his hair and groans of his name…

Caught in the mental imagery, Eggsy gave up even attempting to hold out to the end of that particular, beautiful fucking idea, his hips bucking up as he unashamedly thrust into his palm with panting breaths. It was all just too good and too much, the end of his tether hurtling towards him without restraint and leaving him choking out the only name that mattered as he arched high on the bed and shuddered his way through the white light of blistering orgasm. Hanging there for a second, blinded by the gut punch of it before he collapsed back to the bed, a sticky, giddy mess, releasing a breathless giggle.

What WAS his life?! Third album recorded and in the can, more money than he knew what to do with...and oh yeah, he was arse over tit in love with his bloody bodyguard, a man who'd yet to even let him get a kiss in! There didn't seem like much point in denying it anymore. Not now, with the evidence of just how far down that line of thought he was drying on his skin. He was so fucked and hopefully that would actually mean literally as well as figuratively before too long because there were no words to describe quite how much he wanted it!

Getting his wish, though, would have to wait because he was currently sprawled half naked over a bed, smeared in his own come and snickering like a loon, a state which, though _fucking_ sating, was hardly conducive to seduction! That, and he was half starved.

A quick glance at the clock provided the depressing information that it was nearly two pm and he'd barely eaten...again. Writing having eaten the majority of his week and sleep the rest, he'd distinctly under done the stuffing his face aspect of life, recently, a fact he was suddenly and voraciously about to change!

Probably time to get his sorry arse up and into the shower, then!

 

***

 

Alright, so he was only human and if that shower had contained another couple of increasingly in depth, wank ridden fantasies, well, who was Eggsy to argue. He was young, energetic, painfully in love and had a spank bank filled with months worth of mental images featuring Harry in his own private film, anything less than the forty five minutes he'd given himself was just rude! Besides, if he were being brutally honest, he would have preferred to make it an hour, but the growling of his belly rather overrode even the lust, so it was with a hungry lean that he'd skipped down the stairs two at a time, heading for the kitchen on a mission.

Luckily for Eggsy, by the time he reached it, the delicious scents of a home cooked roast had wafted to his half starved self and a brief pause in the kitchen doorway affording him a glimpse of two of his favourite things in the world: Harry and dinner. Apparently one he'd cooked at that, since he was meticulously prodding a huge chicken that had clearly been roasting for some time, nestled in a bed of crispy deliciousness that appeared to be the worlds greatest roast potatoes.

It had seemed, to Eggsy's still slightly sleep laggy mind, that he had, in actual fact, died and gone straight to a weird form of heaven where he was treated to a full plate and served by heaven's very own twinkly eyed chef. Before he'd even had time to properly contemplate that concept, though, Merlin had ushered him into the dining room, bottle of white in one hand and a bouquet of wine glass stems in the other, and it was at the cosy table, opposite Roxy, that he found himself sat. Bemused, starving hungry, and feeling the warm pool of contentment settling in his chest as his family of choice set about serving themselves their feast.

Of course, that there was a feast at all was a bit of a shock, because a roast meant only one thing at Merlin's house. Sunday. Sunday's were a problem when you hadn't been expecting them, and Eggsy had very definitely thought this one had been a way off yet?! Surely there should have been some other days in between the Tuesday he'd started writing and now? Had he really slept and worked them all away?! Well...shit.

The thing was, Sunday's...well, they tended to be followed by bloody _Monday's_ , and that, Eggsy had realised with a slight sense of dread, would mean the end to this, _all_ of this. The peace and tranquility of the studio, the writing, the easy comfortable routine of it all would end in favour of another round of interviews, public appearances and the dreaded video recording. Still, he had the prospect of that delicious dinner and the company of those he loved around him, god knew he'd had far worse Sundays in his life, so why shouldn't he just enjoy it?

He did, too. Enjoyed it all thoroughly from the copious toasts made to his newest album, freshly mastered and sent off to be pressed, through the laughter filled pudding which had turned out to be less pavlova and more Eton mess, all the way to now. With the after dinner whisky drunk and Eggsy being dispatched to a sink overflowing with washing up. The only thing that made that last bit even a tiny bit bearable was the fact that Harry had offered to help, and even that had only fueled Eggsy's still happily ticking mind on ways in which Harry very definitely could help him. Even if not a one of them had anything to do with washing up.

“How exactly did I get stuck wiv this?!” He huffed, the accompanying, expressively despairing hand gesture encompassing the mess before him, despite the grin on his face.

“I just wrote a whole bleedin' album, how come that don't get me some slack?!”

Whatever kind of response he'd been expecting, Eggsy was very sure that it was not the tea towel to the face and snort of laughter he actually got from Harry, who was already rolling up his sleeves and carefully resting his cufflinks on the tiled windowsill above the sink,

“I cooked the majority of it, if either of us should be allowed some slack, I think it ME, thank you!”

“Hey, you offered...” Eggsy smirked, giving up on getting out of the job as a lost cause and instead, shoving his sleeves up and taking up his position by the draining board,

“Shot yerself in the foot there, bruv!”

“Yes...well...” Harry replied, poorly hiding his grin as he ran the water and dug about for a sponge,

“Perhaps I was simply too much of a gentleman to watch you bear your soapy burden alone after four whiskys and several glasses of wine!”

It was, Eggsy decided, pausing for a moment to take in the view before him, wholly wrong for anyone to look that ridiculously handsome whilst doing something as mundane and ridiculous as the washing up. More than that, even, there was Harry, immaculately tailored jacket long ago abandoned until he was left in a waistcoat that fitted like a second skin and shirt sleeves rolled with delicate care into the crease of his elbows. Looking completely at home. As always. Just like he had when they'd first met, as he had at every press conference, public appearance and airport, just like, in fact, every moment Eggsy had ever taken to look at him.

Harry, well, he was just _Harry_ and right at that moment, Eggsy was hard pushed to name a thing in his entire short life that he'd ever wanted more. The thought burnt brightly in his languid, post-dinner mind and suddenly it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to just lean in. A brief nudge aside of the damp plate being handed to him as he reached up, clumsily pressing a soft, lingering kiss on that mouth that tempted him daily.

For a second or two, he stayed there, eyes dropping closed as time held still, and then, out of nowhere, Harry was suddenly very much a participant in the whole situation, and Eggsy would be re-living this one in the shower for _years_!

A soapy hand caught at his face, tilting it and nudging his chin up just enough for Harry to work his mouth open and delve right in like he belonged. All tongue and gentle, pressing warmth that Eggsy let push him back against the sink. God it was good, so, gloriously good that he forced himself to wake up enough to get his own back, pushing into it and fisting his hands in the pinstripe of Harry's hopelessly wrinkled waistcoat between them.

How long had he been waiting for this now?! Months, probably, but it felt like _years_ now he had it and Eggsy was not about to let his chance pass! Plastering himself to Harry as he groaned around a particularly filthy curl of a tongue determined to explore his mouth thoroughly enough to be able to draw a fucking MAP, he dimly registered a hand on his arse. Not only that, but it was squeezing with the variety of strength and dexterity that promised fingerprint bruises and Eggsy, fuck, he was all for that.

Utterly torn between the miles of solid flesh at his front and the hand at his back, he settled for pressing into them both on increasingly sinuous rolls of his hips as Harry just flat out stole every breath available in his lungs and they were forced to pull apart for air.

“Shit...” Harry managed, voice a pleasingly hoarse wreck that made Eggsy grin like all his Christmases had just come at once,

“Eggsy...god...I should not have done this, but you are so...”

Words might have been useful there, but for all his lyricists flair, Eggsy was rather more fond of action, so simply dived back in for another kiss, leaning up on his tip toes as he used Harry's poor waistcoat to steady his dizzy self.

He might even have got the other hand on his backside too, had it not been for the fact that Harry carefully eased his way back. Gentling the whole thing into something less frenzied and a great deal more tender, smoothing his thumb over the sharp curve of jaw in his hand as he pressed their foreheads together and let them share a breath,

“This is not a good idea, darling boy.” he whispered, nuzzling into Eggsy's cheek,

“Not only have you had a considerable amount to drink, but you have to be up at a ridiculously early hour to leave in the morning.”

“That ain't a _no_...right? Just a not right now?” Eggsy managed, suddenly feeling every single one of those bloody drinks hit him all at once now the edge of passion was easing off him. Alright, so even asking the question was making him sound pitifully hopeful, but he was only human and Harry was...Jesus Christ, Harry was _so_ nearly kissing him again. For fucks sake, he was not built for this level of restraint after a few jars and a good night!

Harry released a pained sigh, the air a warm plume of whisky tinted breath against Eggsy's mouth and before his endless bloody temptation could get in there and deny any of it with a no doubt impassioned speech, Eggsy pressed an unsteady finger to Harry's lips,

“Don't. Just don't say it. I don't give a fuck about any of the piss poor reasons you're gonna gimme, alright? I just...”

What? What could he possibly say to cover the tumultuous mass of emotions currently rampaging through his not-nearly-drunk-enough-for-this-conversation brain?! Why was it so fucking difficult to just tell the man what he thought?! He managed whole songs about love and the shit that happened around it, but put him in a room with Harry sodding Hart and suddenly he was a tongue tied fourteen year old again! It was fucking painful!

His own sigh was rather more a frustrated huff than the elegant thing Harry had used to convey his own mixed emotions, but Eggsy ploughed on regardless, utterly determined now he'd begun to say his piece and state his case.

“I just...fuck it, Harry, I just want you, yeah? S'it, just you, and I got this feelin' you's about to gimme a whole load a reasons why you don't reckon issa good plan, but I don't want ya to, I want you to just say it ain't a no, just not a right now, and then lemme see if I can win y'over tomorrow and stuff. Alright?”

The hand that lifted to his own and achingly carefully lifted that stilling finger was warm as it held Eggsy's own, lifting it to have a kiss applied to the palm before Harry at last gave a quirked smile,

“Alright, you sharp little shit. No speeches, not a no, just a not right now.”

Eggsy was more than sure that the grin he felt split his face was a mile wide but he couldn't find a single fuck to give about it because...well...Harry was smiling down at him with rueful, amused eyes and Eggsy...fucking hell, mate, he was the king of the world!

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a terrifying quantity of interviews like this over the years, call this an homage!

**Eggsy goes old school...and tells us about his favourite sofa!**

**Singer songwriters this newly minted rarely manage to keep you on your toes in an interview, but even this seasoned old hack was forced to admit that Eggsy, the soon to be twenty one year old wunderkind from South London, managed it faultlessly and with charm.**

**As we met him today, casually dressed in his trademark 'trackies' and happily sipping on several cups of tea (which he admitted was smuggled in from a local supermarket by his P.A.** **)** **, he was on fine and effortless form. He seems, for want of a better way to phrase it, content in the world. Something which he grins** **at** **when being told, sprawling into his seat and telling us he's just happy to be in a place where WiFi 'is a thing'.**

**Apparently after the weeks spent at legendary producer Merlin's domain in Scotland, Eggsy was more than ready to get back to the city, a fact he** **emphasises** **with a grand sweep of his hand at the picture window and the view of London it holds,**

**'Look at it...', he tells us, with a smile so wide, his face looks ready to split with it, 'It's fucking beautiful innit!'**

**Well, he's not wrong!**

**About to release his third studio album amidst a whirlwind of speculation regarding everything from the brand of his trainers to the nature of his relationship with various members of his entourage, we were invited to meet him at his hotel, picture window and all. This was the result:**

**So, Eggsy, you're back in London, glad to be home?**

Oh my days, mate, you have no idea! I love that little shed up north 'n all, but fuck me, ain't nothing better than a cheeky Nando's innit! Helps that it ain't SNOWING six days outta seven down here n all, mind!

**From the background, there is some discussion from Merlin, at who's house Eggsy stayed to record his newest album, all of which ends in Eggsy's cackling laughter and a clip round the ear from his producer. It's done, we note, with much affection and it becomes very clear that his entourage are very much family to this lad.**

**'I want it fucking clear that it only snows nine months of the year at my house and if pansy little city boys can't hack it, they can always fuck off and find new producers!' Merlin tells us with enough amused vehemence that we agree to include it. We hope this satisfies him! Eggsy, apparently immune, laughs at us.**

**Maybe we should just ask you to tell us about working on the new album, and with Merlin again?**

Well, it was a pain in the arse to start with, gotta admit. Just could NOT get it to run right, ya know? Fought it a bit, always daft, gotta let this shit come natural or it ain't gonna come at all! Then one night we was listening to Merlin's...he's got this...like...proper eclectic music collection, yeah? Plays it all on CD, we was listening to it and this thing came on and suddenly I had it. It was a bit of a punt, really. Sorta thing that either hits the mark or just proper ploughs in, if ya gemme? Looks like it worked out alright though dunnit!

**From what we heard,** **it** **sounded good to us! The album was inspired by the sounds of the fifties and sixties then?**

Yeah. I had this moment of thinking why not do something that was like a thank you, ya know? To all the people that went before me 'n did their thing when it was rough as fuck to get a deal. And to all the people I love, who work their arses off for me even when they're knackered or ill and just wanna sleep, they're still up there, getting shit done. I wanted to say thanks to them all, and making something like this, like the stuff they love and listen to, it seemed like the best way to do it.

**So would you say those around you have influenced you heavily?**

God yeah mate! I'd not be sat here in some posh hotel chatting about albums 'n shit if it weren't for them! Don't reckon there'd BE an album without them lot! **(** **At this point, h** **e hooks a thumb at the small group of people that make up his entourage, and we're met with several discreet smiles.)** That lot's the shit. I'd be fucked without 'em.

**There's a lot in the lyrics we've heard so far from the new songs about love and it's place in the world, was that just a nod to the musical influences you're exploring or a more personal take?**

Bit of both innit. Can't write about shit you got no clue on 'n yeah, some of it's personal. S'the way it should be when you're writing songs, if it ain't coming from something you've felt, how you gonna get it right?

**The lyrics are quite a broad range between the classic, sixties happy and perhaps a more introspective longing, have you found your writing sliding into the more auto-biographical on this album?**

Fucking hell mate! That's a lot of long words to just gemme to say 'yeah, s'about me.' innit?! **(His laughter is buried in a cup of tea, but there's almost a hint of blush on his cheeks, so we forge ahead.)**

**Shall we just read into it what we will?**

S'up to you innit! I ain't gonna deny I wrote it from the heart. I mean, you've heard it, be a bit bleeding daft to try n say it ain't at least part of me in there, wannit! Songs are always from the heart. Least they should be, anyway.

**There's been a lot of speculation recently about your love life, how do you think the fans will take seeing your heart on your sleeve** **like this** **?**

Jesus, you ain't messing about today is ya! **(At this point, Eggsy laughingly waves off the hovering and brutally efficient P.A. who was undoubtedly about to throw us out.)**

Look, mate, I gave you this gig cos I like what you normally do, yeah? Some of them journo's...the shit they write, I ain't cool with that, but you lay it straight, so I'mma be straight with you back. I know what they say, I seen it, I don't give a fuck. I love who I love, and it ain't no one's business but mine and that other person's, yeah? I love my fans and that, they know it, but I can't help who I fall in love with, gemme?

**That sounded like an official statement there, would you like to clarify?**

Nahh bruv. Ain't nothing to make a statement about or clarify…

**(When he tails off here, rather shyly, there's a subtle but still very present look to his gathered entourage and we can't help but look too. Sadly everyone there has poker faces capable of outwitting James Bond, and Eggsy's ever present bodyguard actually does rather resemble everyone's favourite spy, too.)**

Ain't for want of me trying, neither, but I'm hopeful I can win 'em round eventually!

**That sounds like a man with a plan at work! Would you like to address certain rumours around who this person might be?**

Fuck yeah, I got a plan! It's to be awesome till they give in! And no thanks, the red tops only ever print horseshit they made up, so fuck them sideways.

**Again, w** **e're briefly interrupted by Eggsy's P.A., Roxanne Morton, who clarifies that statement with the variety of loyalty very rarely seen in the entourages of today's musicians:**

**'I believe what Eggsy means is that the tabloids have never, and will never, be granted an interview with him because they refuse,** _**point blank** _ **,** **to respect his privacy and have repeatedly insulted his family with vile and** **unsubstantiated** **rumours printed merely to sell their papers.'**

**We toy with asking about Eggsy's family and the infamous court case at which Eggsy himself was a prime witness, helping to convict his ex-step father of a slew of offences. We decide against it since Ms Morton is a force to be reckoned with and we like our heads attached…**

**Getting back to the album, do you think the comparisons between it and Amy Winehouse's Back to Black are fair?**

It ain't the same thing at all. For starters,I can't hit them high notes, and second, she come at it from a different place, yeah? I mean, I can see why people think the style's there, but if anything, I reckon it owes more to like...Lee Fields and Stephanie McKay. Bit happier tho innit, less Sadder Day and more Yayday? Shit...I shoulda used that for a title…fucking hell Merlin, remember that one, yeah!

**After the man in question shoots that particular suggestion down rather graphically, Eggsy's attention is returned to us and we continue on…**

**It sounds like you really enjoyed the recording process this time around, what would you say were the differences between this and your first two album sessions?**

S'easy mate, this one I had a clue what I was doing and I spent like...three days straight on this knackered old sofa in the studio. Legit. I ate on it, slept on it, wrote on it. Did not shift. Fucking love that sofa now, it 'n me are proper mates!

**You recorded it all in** _**three days** _ **?**

Yes bruv! Wrote it one evening, spent the next day fucking about with it and recording it. By the time I woke up on the third day I only had a few bits left to do! **(There is an intriguing laugh at this, joined by a hint of blush on Eggsy's suntanned face as he avoids our eyes.)**

**You're giving us the distinct impression you're not going to share anything more about that process…**

Damn right I'm not. What goes on between a bloke 'n his sofa is private shit, bruv! Private. Shit!

**Fair enough! How about telling us your reaction to the news of your Brit Award success? Will you be performing at the show?**

YES bruv! Never thought they'd give one of 'em to some kid offa the estates! I'm WELL chuffed AND it's me twenty first that night innit, so I'mma get on some nice duds n celebrate! Got something proper special planned for the show n all, just you wait n see!

**Happy birthday in advance and we'll watch for the surprise!** **Any final words for the fans eagerly awaiting the album's release?**

Cheers mate! I guess...hope you like it cos I loved making it and I'd proper like to tour it soon! I reckon it'll sound awesome live!

**We have a sneaking suspicion that particular dream will come true in no time, Eggsy!**

 

*******

 

_What's Under Eggsy's Shell? This candid interview reveals all!_

_In the recently released chat Eggsy had with Q magazine, fans were treated to a rare glimpse into the megastars love life, but who was the mystery person our favourite cheeky chappy can't help themselves over?! After recent rumours that the star has been seen looking VERY close to his bodyguard, fans can only wait and see if Eggsy pulls off a Whitney in true London style!_

_**537 Comments. Top rated replies:** _

_@YAYDAY4EVA_

_OMG THATS SO ROMANTIC!!!!1 #THENOISEIMADEWASNOTHUMAN_

_@beansonrawtoast_

_WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_

_@AnthonyStuart_

_Int that the old bloke from before?! KNEW IT! (╯°□°_ _）_ _╯_ _︵_ _┻━┻_

_@PORTUGALEGGSYFANS_

_< hearteyes.gif>_

_@anacondont_

_Imagine the weddin tho..._

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cookies for anyone who gets the movie scene I put in a little homage to!

Some birthdays, Eggsy decided, finally managing to pry himself from the fucking EPIC view his latest hotel window provided, were far more memorable than others. His twelfth, for instance, when he'd got his first proper sized guitar. Fifteenth was a firmly embedded recollection of being vaguely conscious after Dean had beat the shit out of him and tossed his limp, battered body into his bedroom to be out of sight. Seventeenth, also one he was barely conscious for, although for rather more self inflicted, cider based reasons. Eighteenth, at Merlin's house in Scotland after being signed...and then there was this one. He'd be twenty one by the time the clock hit 10.03pm tonight and this time, he'd be on a stage, in front of god alone knew how many people watching him on tele and more than half the music industry in the front row.

It was a bit of a mindfuck, really, all things considered!

It wasn't like he hadn't been warned about it, Roxy had consistently reminded him about the thing every day for the last fortnight, but between the public appearances and the endless slog that promoting a new album brought him, Eggsy had just spectacularly managed to not think about it. Well, that, and he'd been a bit preoccupied with attempting to get Harry to talk to him. Not just the amused smile and lazy chatter they'd always indulged in, but the real, proper talking that Harry, the wiley bastard, had thus far managed to avoid. He'd even managed to do it with uncanny charm and some seriously sneaky ability to escape without being seen, so Eggsy couldn't even claim he was being purposefully ignored.

He was, not to put too fine a point on it, confused.

When he'd finally managed to get Harry to agree to the 'not no, but not right now' thing, he'd been firmly of the opinion that his attempts to win the man over were basically a done deal. That kiss standing at Merlin's sink had not been, Eggsy mused, anything but enthusiastic and fucking amazing, yet in the recent weeks of dashing about, Harry had been growing increasingly distant. Not just metaphorically, either, because there had grown a distinctly physical GAP where once Harry had been more than happy to invade Eggsy's personal space.

It was not a gap Eggsy was in any way, shape or form content with.

Now, with the awards ceremony barely two hours away, he was reduced to pottering about his hotel bedroom under the guise of getting himself ready for the show. Of course, Roxy had already been in and checked on him twice before vanishing back out to the rest of the suite to chat to Merlin and shout at people on the phone, but even with her strict warnings not to linger, Eggsy was struggling to find the enthusiasm for the whole thing. Picking up his ridiculously expensive designer gear to get dressed wasn't enough to bring more than a slightly petulant pout to his face.

Of _course_ , it was that moment when Harry strode in toting a huge box, eyes running the entire length of Eggsy's outfit before he spoke,

“What on _earth_ do you call that?!” He asked, face a combination of incredulous horror and that little hint of amusement that made Eggsy go more than a bit weak at the knees.

“S'a suit innit” Because pouting aside, Eggsy was actually rather proud that he'd persuaded Roxy into letting him wear the thing for the show. Not everyone got custom made shit, thanks very much, Rox, AND it had the double Adidas stripe down the leg!

“According to _whom_?” Harry blithely continued, striding his way past to put the box he'd been carrying on the bed with an elegant grace that Eggsy could never hope to attain. Maybe it was a forces thing? But Merlin stomped about in clodhopper boots and he'd shared his training with Harry...maybe it was just Harry then, in all his effortless charm and ridiculous, floppy haired glory.

“Calvin Klein!” Eggsy managed in reply, determined to actually not just stand there gawking like a lovestruck teenager...even if he was technically only two years outside of that, one of them being officially marked tonight, too!

“Don't be ridiculous. Here...” With Harry's pause, he bent to the box beside him, lifting the lid and revealing...well...shit...because there, in the darkest of blues, was a suit. A REAL suit, Eggsy noted, the kind of thing that only four figures and tailoring could get you from tucked away little shops in expensive ends of town he'd only previously visited in nicked cars on joyrides.

“Shit...” was about all the eloquence he could possibly manage in response and for a stunned moment or two, he just stood there, blinking at the thing in awe,

“That fer me?”

“Of course.”Harry was already dragging the thing out by the hanger, smoothing out the merest of wrinkles as he held it up beside him, the quirk of a smile playing at his mouth,

“I thought, since you were having something of a date with your stratospherically successful future, you should be dressed for it.”

Reverently, Eggsy allowed himself a shaking reach for the thing, fingertips grazing the fabric with the lightest of touches before he let his eyes find their natural centre; Harry's face. The gaze that met his own was filled with emotions rolling so fast, it was terrifying. More exhilarating than walking out in front of an audience of ten thousand people, too, and suddenly, Eggsy realised there was more here than he'd first thought. The latent hint of hunger that lingered in Harry's expression when he looked at Eggsy remained, flatteringly, but with it, there was so much more. A tinge of pride, something a little possessive...but crucially, and the one that made Eggsy frown, _sadness_.

It was in no small quantity, either.

“What's goin' on?” he managed, dread already pooling in his gut as he took a step forward and fixed Harry with a firm look,

“I know that face, that's the face people gimme when they're about to drop something shit on me...”

The sigh Harry released was soft and so pained, Eggsy actually reached for him before Harry's own hand rose in a stilling action that forced him to stay put.

“Darling boy...you're about to play to an audience of millions of adoring fans, tomorrow, by the time you wake up, you will be the name on everyone's lips, you have such a staggering talent...”

“No pressure then...” Eggsy said quietly, attempting a grin even as his unease grew with every breath.

“Not for you, you could do it in your sleep.” Harry replied, his smile achingly sad as a hand reaching up to curl around Eggsy's jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone with such tenderness that it made goosebumps rise in it's wake.

This, he suddenly realised with a shaky breath, was starting to sound an awful lot like a breakup speech, wasn't it.

And wasn't that just UTTERLY unfair when he'd not even had anything for them to break up FROM!

Maybe he was just reading it wrong? Although after a couple of weeks of Harry's disappearing acts and avoidance, it was bloody hard to see how he could have read it any other way.

“Harry...you ain't exactly making me feel reassured here...what's goin' on?”

The hand left his cheek and Eggsy missed it with an ache in his chest, watching as Harry carefully laid the suit back to it's tissue papery nest. Only once it was safely stowed did he lift his gaze back and proceed to shoot Eggsy straight through the heart with his response,

“We can't do this, Eggsy. You have the whole world to explore and a brilliant, successful future spread out before you. You deserve everything fate has waiting for you and so much more. You need to be free to see and do everything and anything your heart desires, darling, and you shall, just without me beside you.”

“The _fuck_?!” Eggsy managed, the rough voiced exclamation falling from his lips even before he'd contemplated the true meaning of Harry's little speech,

“Don't do this, Harry...it's fucking pointless! I can do all of that WITH you, this ain't a thing that needs to happen!”

“Yes it is, sweetheart...”

“No it fucking well ain't! Jesus, Harry, you promised me!”

“Eggsy...” the sigh with which his name was murmured was so agonised that for a moment, it was all Eggsy could do not to just cuddle the bloody great idiot until he stopped looking so sad. Then, abruptly, the urge was sated as Harry stepped closer and caught him up in a tight squeeze, burying his face against Eggsy's neck.

So unexpected was the action that Eggsy just melted, the anger and fear seeping out of him with every breath. Harry, he realised with heart shattering clarity, had made up his ridiculous, self sacrificing mind and Eggsy, well...Eggsy had never begged a day in his life. Not even when they'd had nothing, him and his mum, and Dean had been a constant threat that hung over them like a dark cloud of pain and misery. It wasn't within him to do so now, even as he ached with it.

“I'm sorry.” Harry whispered against his ear and for a few shuddering breaths, Eggsy let himself cling, inhaling the sandalwood scent that lingered on pinstripes, committing it to memory in the resounding logic he wasn't ever going to get to do this again.

“Yeah, me too.” He finally managed, pulling back enough to look up at Harry's face, clasping it between his hands as he leaned up on his tiptoes and nuzzled the softest of kisses to downcast mouth,

“You're a fucking idiot, Harry Hart, but if this is how you wannit, I ain't gonna stand in your way.”

The miserable, barely there tilt upwards at the corner of Harry's mouth was almost Eggsy's undoing, but when the stupid muppet disentangled them from each other and stepped back, Eggsy didn't stop him. It nearly killed him, but he didn't stop him.

“The entire world will fall in love with you after tonight, Eggsy. Enjoy everything it brings you. Happy birthday, darling boy.” He said quietly, before, just like that, he was gone. Merely the soft click of the door closing behind him to fill the silence he'd left behind.

“'Cept I don't want the entire world...” Eggsy murmured into the oppressive quiet, alone once again and with an ache in his chest that he absentlyrubbed at,

“I just want you.”

 

***

 

It was possible, and Eggsy would never admit it to anyone, least of all Roxy, despite her removing the glass from his hand before he'd even sipped it, that he might be a bit drunk. He'd started on the minibar at the hotel when he'd been faced with that fucking suit, still sat in it's box on his bed where Harry had left it. Of course, the minibar had turned out to be rather more of an actual, really quite well stocked bar and as a result, Eggsy had been three shots into the tequila when Roxy had found him, quietly sniffling over the boxed up remains of his love life.

Still though, never one to allow...well, basically anything to get in his way, he'd rallied after the fourth shot, pulled himself the fuck together and, with no small quantity of Roxy's help, got himself up, dressed and into the waiting limo. Mind you, Merlin had been less than impressed with his intoxicated state, enough that he'd got the driver to stop at a café and sent Roxy in for what had felt like a few pints of exceedingly strong tea. That had undoubtedly _helped_ , but there was really no two ways about the fact that Eggsy was definitely _feeling no pain_ by the time they arrived.

“Jesus christ, I might actually kill him for this...today of ALL days...” Roxy was hissing to Merlin's frowning face, the glass she'd just stolen from Eggsy's hand absently put back on the tray a hovering waiter held. Sadly she managed to send the poor sod off with Heavy Frown II and an impatient hand wave before any more booze could be snagged, though.

Shame.

Eggsy had never really got his head around the amount of free champagne they threw about at these bashes, and if ever there was a night to get UTTERLY trashed, this was surely it! Still, he wasn't so toasted he was incapable, it seemed a bit harsh for her to threaten actual bodily harm to him over a few shots...

“Eggs...are you going to be all right to do this?” She was, Eggsy knew, gently asking about a great deal more than his alcohol levels, but that topic wasn't one he was willing to even briefly entertain. At all. So he fixed her with his best cheeky smile and nodded, nudging her shoulder with his own,

“Course I fuckin' am, s'the BRITS innit!”

She had to know he would have gone on stage half dead for this. Besides, the tequila had taken the edge right off the feeling of having his chest ripped open and if anything, it had steadied his mind for the coming performance. Benefits of, he decided, eyeing the stage they were stoodto the side of with detached interest, growing up with a drunk. Also on an estate where offies didn't give a fuck how old you were, too, because it left you with a healthy disregard for the rules and the alcohol tolerance of an ox.

A harried stage hand materialised by his side, headset mic covered as they whispered his two minute warning and Eggsy nodded, attempting to psych himself up to the levels of happy he should be appearing with. It wasn't, he decided, letting himself relax a bit as he was handed his guitar, all that hard. Clearly, despite Roxy's concerns, that booze had done the trick!

Might also be the fact that he was about to perform to _millions_ too, mind…just him, and an acoustic guitar because Merlin reckoned it was all about the back to basics shit this year.

Actually that bit, he was pretty much happy with because nothing ever felt less settling than being surrounded by a bunch of people you didn't know, titting about to one of your songs! It was more than half the reason he'd agreed to perform in the first place, if he were honest. The willingness to let him sit the fuck down and just noodle his way through the nations favourite, according to a poll; _Pug Life_.

Still though, it wasn't exactly one of his newer songs, and Merlin _had_ said he should mention the new album...

“Just remember...” Roxy murmured, hands automatically lifting to fix his earpiece and check the attached microphone,

“You're amazing and all right, maybe I don't tell you often enough, but you are, ok, so you've got this and it's just a few minutes, then we can go back to the hotel and see your mum and Ruby for a birthday dinner...right?”

The babbling speech alone had Eggsy snapping his face to watch as she fiddled with the immaculate lines of his suit. _Harry's_ suit, he corrected with a wince, and no, he was not going there right now, ta. Roxy never babbled. The woman was physically incapable of anything less than being 900% in control at all times. Fucks sake, they'd been shot at and she'd barely blinked!

“You alright there Rox?” He asked, brows drawn together in quiet concern that evidently was enough to snap her out of her temporary lack of control and into firm glare as she replied,

“ _Me_?! Eggs...you had to deal with...look, yes, I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine ok, so get out there and own the fucking world!”

“Good!” Eggsy grinned at her, the sudden, all encompassing calm that was starting to pervade his system escaping in the form of a wink as he turned to walk out on the stage,

“Cos I'm doin' a different song.”

There would be hell to pay later for that one, he knew, Roxy's aghast face imprinted on his memory as he turned to take his bow and wave at the audience still going nuts after his introduction. There might even be some shit for it now, but never in his life had Eggsy felt the phrase 'fuck it, I'm doin' it anyway' to be more appropriate. So as he settled onto the ridiculously wanky little chair thing set out for him, he beamed out at the audience and waited for the quiet to fall.

“I'm s'posed to be doin' an old song of mine...” he said, once he was sure he had the undivided attention of his crowd and he was comfortable, guitar across one thigh,

“But I thought I'd change it up a bit, so I'm gonna do something different if that's alright wiv you lot?”

The encouraging cheer from the circle was enough to put an actual smile on his face and for a moment, he ducked his head, letting his eyes drift closed, attempting to force his rolling emotions into place. Alright, so as birthdays went, this one hadn't worked out how he'd wanted it to, but that...well, let's face it, it wasn't every day you got handed an award, was it! Could have been a lot worse, all things in, seemed a bit churlish not to enjoy it a little bit…

“This is for...” and there, the words caught in his throat, as if his own body was unwilling to even voice the name aloud when it was fighting a battle with the booze and adrenaline flooding his system.

Bugger. Now was not the time to get emotional about shit, Jesus Christ.

Clearing his throat and wetting his lips, he forced his voice level and threw what he hoped was a less wobbly smile out at the audience,

“It's for what might've been. It's called _Only You_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh come on, what's a romance without a LITTLE angst!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have an extra update this week because it's short and I wrote three chapters in as many days!

_**Eggs-straordinary win for London star at BRITS** _

_Last night, amidst a glittering galaxy of the music industry's finest, London's very own Cockney sparrow took the award for Best Singer/Songwriter with his usual ease. Looking extremely dapper in a Savile Row suit custom made for him, his celebratory speech included typically down to earth mentions of friends, family and the producer that discovered him, Merlin. Notably absent from the mix was the usually ever present bodyguard, Harry Hart, causing some consternation amongst the stars fans who have even gone so far as to set up websites dedicated to the pairing._

_This site learned today that Eggsy's unplanned, yet breathtaking performance of The Platters 'Only You' may well have been a hint at the behind-the-scenes drama too since sources close to the star say that Hart, 51, has taken a sabbatical. Given the recent rumours surrounding Eggsy and his bodyguard, could there be more here than meets the eye?_

_< Savoysuite.PNG>_

_A guest at the birthday boys lavish after show party held at the Savoy (seen here), told us that Eggsy was subdued and drinking heavily,_

_'He didn't seem himself at all, there was a lot of booze floating around and he was always with a drink in his hand.' The un-named socialite told us,_

_'You could see his people trying to get him to ease up, but he wasn't having any of it. He definitely didn't look happy!'_

_Clearly turning twenty one has yet to give Eggsy the key to the door he wanted!_

_Eggsy's new album 'Just us & the Sofa' will be released Monday and now features a bonus track of his BRIT awards performance courtesy of Kingsman Records. It can also be seen on the Kingsman YouTube channel. _

 

_**832 Comments. Top rated replies:** _

_@thehartwinhug_

_No... No... Noooo.... :(((((_

_@so-i-hug-n-i-pug-ur-house-down_

♪♫♪ _i understand the magic that you do your my dream come true_

_@l0nd0nm455iv_

_fukin lie init eggs aint lyk dat man he is wel hapi_

_@eggtrash_

_HE IS SO PRETTY IN THAT SUIT IM SCREAMING!!? ?!? >!? >,, , PLEA S E ! ! ! ! ! ! !_

_@AnGeLeGgSy_

_oMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY EGGSY WE LUV U B STRONG ! xxxxxxx_

_@2stripes1mic_

_i can make u feel better eggs if you know what i mean...... L.O.L_

 

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because you can't keep a good London boy down!

God, his head CANED.

Well, no, he would have liked to narrow it down to _just_ his head, but, as Eggsy groaned into his thousand thread count hotel sheets, he would have to admit that actually, this was really more of an all over pain.

In fact, he was dying. There were really no two ways about it. Frankly, he would have welcomed it if it meant an end to this. Twenty one and one day was a bit young to go though, wasn't it, and he _had_ just won that award… maybe he could soldier on and see if he could survive the biting agony a bit longer.

The moment he'd been handed the Singer/Songwriter of the Year award had been a total blur to Eggsy. A thing he only dimly remembered being a part of as he'd stepped up to the podium, thanking Merlin and Roxy for all they'd done for him, his mum and Ruby for being them and the music industry for being well easy to impress…

His speech had apparently gone well because everyone had cheered and clapped him for it, at least.

None of that had removed the fact that Harry wasn't there with them all though, or the fact that he wouldn't be there ever again. It was that last one that had got Eggsy reaching for the endless booze circulating his party in them tiny little glasses. Fuck alone knew what had been in them, but after about three of them, the lingering remains of tequila and champagne he'd necked beforehand had joined the party again and he was distinctly legless.

It had been nice, if a bit harsh of the room to spin quite so much, and once toasted, well...Eggsy had actually managed to enjoy his birthday with something like his usual verve. Right up until his mum and Roxy had cornered him, taken his drink away and forced him to go to bed.

Killjoys.

If you thought about it, it was really their fault he was currently hanging like death was knocking on his door. If he'd had his way, he'd still be drunk, after all, and being sober would involve him dealing with... _things_. That wasn't happening, not yet, anyway.

From somewhere on the bedside table, his phone emitted a noise similar in decibels to that of a 747 taking off and with a shaking hand, he fumbled desperately to silence the thing before the racket actually shattered his skull. Sadly, once it was in his hand the screen blinding him with the light of a thousand suns, he could hardly ignore the fact that Roxy had sent him a text. Weird, cos he really didn't remember her ringtone being that deafening before?!

Fucking phones...fucking MORNINGS...fuck everything, quite frankly.

Still though...texts from Roxy usually were only sent in fair warning that she was about to barge in and force him upright. A concept which, right at that minute, could only send a wave of nausea over Eggsy that made him whimper pitifully into his pillow. Maybe if he answered it, she might leave him to die in peace? Dying man's last requests had to be honoured, right? That was a thing, wasn't it?

Gingerly, he stuck his head back out of the duvet cave he'd been well and truly buried in, flipping the unlock screen and stabbing an uncoordinated finger at the text symbol. Given the way his week was going, he'd be lucky if she hadn't enrolled him in a fucking marathon or something…

 

**From: Rox-asaurus Rex**  
 **To: Eggs**  
 **13.47pm**  
Take the day off and sober up pls?  
I left you water and food, I'll be in   
Merlin's suite dealing with the press  
today if you need us!  
R xxx

 

Blinking in stunned silence at a tiny screen was about the only reaction Eggsy was capable of for a few moments, but once his brain had actually caught up with the staggering concept that he was actually allowed a _day off_ , well...suddenly his head hurt a lot less! Then he moved, and that 'a lot' was downgraded to 'slightly less like his eyeballs were about to ooze from their sockets'. It was still a win, and he was going to take it because, as aforementioned eyeballs discovered they could see again, he realised there was indeed a tray of food on the dresser.

Bless Roxy for being a fucking _saint_ amongst P.A's!

  
**From: Eggs**  
 **To: Rox-asaurus Rex**  
 **13.49pm**  
I fucking love you.  
Dying now.  
Talk later.  
E xxx

His reply should probably have been rather more grovelling, but attempting to focus on the screen was a whole new spectrum of agony and so Eggsy buried the evil bloody thing under a pillow and sank back into the delicious darkness. He was already three quarters of his way back to sleep, bit of luck and the rest would catch up! Day off, right? Well, since he hadn't actually had one of those in about eighteen months, he figured he was allowed to sleep most of it away. That, and being awake would mean dealing with shit...that...nahh, that just had fuck all appeal.

 

***

 

Waking up naturally after the forced snap into consciousness Roxy's text message had given him had been a pleasant surprise. Granted, the agony in his head remained, but at least the nausea had worn off and allowed him to actually make it out of the bed this time. Of course, once Eggsy had somehow managed to stagger into the bathroom, vaguely go through something of a morning routine and stumble back out, it was nearer to three in the afternoon than anything that could be declared the start of a day, but at least he didn't have to be anywhere.

As it was, he settled himself into the sofa, tray of food and hangover curing soft drinks gradually being demolished beside him, while he stared listlessly out of the vast picture window. London looked, he thought, with a miserable lick of slightly jam smeared finger, proper fucking pretty and it was horribly unfair. Shouldn't it be raining or at least grimly overcast on days when you'd been dumped and were feeling like shit? Wasn't that in the rules? The weirdly sunny, glorious vista before him seemed wholly at odds with his general mood and so he frowned at it, chewing away the last of the croissants with a mutinous expression.

The hangover was fading at the edges and with the new coherence, Eggsy was swiftly discovering his ability to remember with pinpoint accuracy the exact look on Harry's face as he'd turned to leave. So much so, in fact, that somewhere around the fourth jam roll, he'd slithered from maudlin and into a low grade level of determination that had him wiping sticky fingers on his trackies and reaching for his phone.

He could, he reasoned, poking about until Harry's mobile number was sat there, waiting to be pressed, make some effort and sort this ridiculous shit out, right? There was no bloody need for Harry to be all over dramatic about it and pull a vanishing act just because he'd decided against doing what Eggsy had been pretty fucking sure was a very good idea, thanks very much! No need at all, when you sat and thought about it logically, and Harry should be _told_ that!

Confidence bolstered by the small internal discussion, Eggsy stabbed the number on his screen with something close to his usual spark and waited as the dial tone beeped to life. He could do this, he was a grown up, twenty one, no less. Speaking to the man you were arse over tit in love with was a perfectly normal thing to do, dammit, even if neither one of you had actually admitted to that _just_ yet...shit…

“ _Hello...”_

“Harry, don't hang up alright, it's…”

“ _This is Harry Hart, I can't answer the telephone at the moment, so please leave a message and I'll do my best to get back to you...”_

“ _Crap_...ok, look, um...Harry, it's me…” Ok, that wasn't Eggsy's most eloquent start, but nonetheless, he had a well thought out, solid, undeniably good argument to put forth and nothing could dissuade him from it! He could do this!

“It's just...there's......Harry...for fucks sake...I'mma run the fuck away, go down Westfield _alone_ with no security and shoplift from fucking Niketown alright, so if I get done for it, know it's on you and Merlin'll have your balls for it. So...you should prolly come back...”

Hanging up with the prod of a finger before flinging the phone into the cushions may not have been the actions of a well-grown-up, twenty one year old proper adult, but right at that moment, Eggsy was finding himself beyond the point of giving a toss. Who else's weeks went from high to low as fast as his, eh?! Where was the HIM time in it all?! It was getting bloody stupid, now!

God, he'd preferred the hangover to the suddenly heart-aching level of mental clarity being nearly all the way to sober had brought him.

Maybe that was the answer, just...give himself the rest of the day off to calm the fuck down and get a grip. Let off a bit of steam, maybe pull some girl and take his mind off things a bit. That...that was a _genius_ idea! The girls in his life had always been so much simpler than this weird... _love_ shit he was currently stuck in, after all. They had only ever offered him a good laugh, maybe a shag if he was lucky, but certainly nothing like the nagging ache that was lingering in his chest. Going out and chatting a few up for some meaningless laughs and a some more memory destroying drinks was the best plan he'd had in ages!

Better than sitting about in his hotel getting wreck-faced on his own. Misery loved company, wasn't that the saying? Well, if ever there was someone capable of drawing a crowd, it had always been Eggsy. All he needed was a place to go and, as his mind warmed fully to this, most perfect and undentable of plans, he knew _just_ the place.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long break, real life demanded my attention! I'll give you my sorry in the form of Eggsy being a tit and looking at his life choices!

In the days before fame and fortune had caught Eggsy, before Merlin and more  _ everything _ than he really knew what to do with, his few bolt holes from the shit Dean threw at him had always been the clubs. Not for the drink or party atmosphere, definitely not for the fucking drugs either, because god knew he'd spent enough time avoiding that shit back in the day, no, for Eggsy, it had always been the  _ music _ that had drawn him. 

Those sticky floored, disgusting little dives tucked away down manky back alleys or accessible only by one, dark little doorway wedged in between the chip shop and the bookies, they had always been his homes from home, so it had seemed like the most stellar of plans to find his favoured of them again now. Course, he was a bit out of touch with...well,  _ all _ of that shit now, what with his never really getting to see free time, or rather, getting free time, but it consisting of an hour here or there, usually on a plane between gigs. It wasn't exactly conducive to a solid social life, was the trouble!

Still, the addresses of his favoured places had been etched into his memory forever more as a drunken teen and it hadn't been long before a swift Google confirmed they were still there and still exactly as shitty as he remembered. After that, it had been actual, legit FUN getting himself dressed up in some duds his old self would never have dreamt he'd ever own! It just kept getting better too, when he tested long disused muscle memory in order to manage a flawless bit of old skool parkour on the hotel fire escape, and then...he was free!

Just like old times, really, even if that last jump had winded him a bit more than he was willing to admit.  _ God _ , he was out of shape!

Considering how shit the day had started out, dragging his cap down and hood up in order to remain inconspicuous on the streets as night began to fall had seemed like rather a small price to pay for the freedom Eggsy hadn't felt in a terrifyingly long time. He'd missed it, too. The simple act of just being able to walk down a street without being hounded was giving him a giddy glee that he usually only found in nicking Roxy's chocolate when she was busy. Jesus Christ, he really needed to get out more  _ and _ work out more. Generally, work life balance was a thing he'd be looking into after this!

Possibly not getting out to places his old self had felt most at home in though, because walking the busy streets of South London after dark was reminding him quite forcibly of why he'd always used to carry that flick knife. Not that tonight looked like the kind of evening in which he'd need to be tooled up. It was still reasonably early, there were drunken students throwing up their 2 for £1 shots in the gutter outside the pub before heading straight back in...and the grimy, shitty life that could be found behind closed doors was his oyster.

Maybe, he pondered, grateful that a Monday evening evidently didn't warrant a bouncer or even a queue as he ducked into the door of his chosen shit-pit for the evening, he should do  _ this _ more often. The low light and thrumming bass surrounded him and for a moment, he paused, letting his eyes acclimatise in case he went straight down the stairs in front of him on his arse. Wouldn't do to crack his head open on the bottom, Roxy'd have his balls if she got called to some A&E in the middle of the night! Not that she wouldn't  _ anyway _ if she found out about this little jaunt, but fuck it, risks had always been a bit of a thrill for Eggsy, seemed a crying shame to pass this one up without giving it a bash.

Unhelpfully, however, the nagging voice in the back of his head chose then to remind him of the risk he'd failed spectacularly to take with Harry. After that, it was with something a lot closer to defiance than the excitement he'd felt outside that Eggsy slipped into the club proper.

Fuck the day, frankly. Hair of the dog was clearly needed if he was still thinking about that hot mess he'd left behind at a time like this, when there were proper fit girls in tiny skirts and heels that looked lethal eyeing him speculatively. Now he'd got his eye in, there were a couple of tasty looking lads giving him the once over from the dance floor too, in all their designer jeans and hair product laced glory…

The night was young and Eggsy was flat out going to enjoy it.

 

***

 

_ Shots _ . Shots were his new favourite thing, Eggsy had decided, giggling at the swaying line of upturned glasses in front of him. Quite why they were swaying he wasn't entirely sure, but since no one else in the vicinity seemed all that bothered, he figured he could let a little wonky defiance of the laws of physics pass. Mainly because he was  _ utterly _ trashed. He was also quite sweaty and in pretty dire need of a piss too, but neither of those things had managed to wipe the grin off his face for the last two rounds of drinks, so he wasn't about to let them start now!

As spur of the moment ideas went, his jailbreak escape to the wilds of clubland had been, he'd groggily mused, somewhere around his third dance and fifth drink, a stroke of sheer genius. The place had remained precisely as he'd remembered it, in all it's sticky floored, dralon coated glory. It had even remained lit up enough for you to be able to see your drink, but the management had clearly carefully retained enough darkness to mean checking your change after buying them was impossible, too. Something which Eggsy was increasingly grateful for since it meant even the three girls and one bloke who'd thus far attempted to shove their tongues down his throat had failed to recognise him.

All things in, being anonymous again after all that time touring was on it's own a spectacularly awesome break from the norm. If you threw in copious booze, some banging tunes and a lot of willing bodies, well...Eggsy was struggling to find fault in the place, quite frankly!

Still though, there were those nagging needs to breathe air that wasn't tinged with booze tainted sweat, and relieve himself at the same time...

“Need a slash...” he managed to slur to the fucking glorious little redhead that had practically been in his lap for the last fifteen minutes as they'd worked their way down a line of shot glasses with increasingly awful hand eye co-ordination.

“Don't get lost, yeah!” She giggled, already diving back in for the next drink and Eggsy grinned as he slithered out of the booth and into the thronging crowd.

If he were in any way still capable after finishing up that next lot of drinks, he could find a hotel and take her with him, he mused, bouncing between walls and tables as he headed for the toilets. She was a nice enough girl, legs that went on forever, nice smile, proper chatty and she'd asked him if he knew he looked just like ' _ that singer lad, yeah? Eggsy?'  _ only the once before kissing him senseless and securing them a booth to sit in. It'd just be  _ polite _ to say thank you, really.

Ricocheting off the end of the bar, Eggsy staggered his way merrily down the long, dark hallway, following a dubious sign pointing to the toilets and suddenly feeling like he was seventeen and free in the world again.

Might have been the lack of blood in his alcohol stream, but fuck, it felt so weird to think of the cataclysmic changes such a short few years had brought to his life whilst this bubble of humanity, stuck in a dank aired little corner of London, had remained so unaltered. Mind you, had Merlin not found him and whisked him off to bigger and better, where the fuck would Eggsy himself have been?! Still in the same shitty clubs just like everyone else on the dance floor there, desperately trying to forget about the crap they had to deal with in their lives via cheap alchopops, even cheaper shots and music loud enough to make you forget your own name…

Definitely time to get some air, he nodded, veering away from the open door to the men's toilets with a nose wrinkle at the noisy sounds of someone very definitely regretting their booze consumption that evening. That, and sober the fuck up a bit. He was getting decidedly maudlin and if he wanted to make sure Keesha...Kelly...K...something or other, anyway, got her rocks off, not being swayingly pissed was going to be needed.

Course, that did also involve negotiating the alarm on the bloody fire door at the end of the hallway, but time had evidently stood still there, too, since Eggsy's weaving hands stabbed out the old code and the sodding thing fell open without protest.

Damp, pollution tinted air gusted against his face, and for a moment, Eggsy allowed himself to slump into the door frame and just breathe. Taking in the slightly less rank scents of the chilly outside world actually felt a pleasant change after the miasma of grim back in the club.

There was something about the dankness of London alleys that would forever smell like home to him, and without really considering what he was doing, he staggered out a step, propping one arm on the wall as he fumbled his fly and added to the disgusting mess on the concrete with a contented sigh.

It hadn't exactly improved the smell of the place, but he felt better and the air was at least getting to his pickled head. Sadly with marginally more blood to his brain also came the realisation that the sodding door had swung shut after him and locked him out.

_ Bollocks _ . Well, that was just un-fucking-helpful, wasn't it!

 

“ _Well well well_...ain't this a red letter day, boys...”

For his entire adult, drinking life, Eggsy had sought a hangover cure capable of snapping him out of the worst of his drunken states with minimal fuss. It had begun as a quest when he'd first discovered the joys and subsequent downsides of going out and getting trashed with his mates, leading him to testing a long line of any old wives tale he could find. He'd started simply, of course, as you do when beginning a new endeavour. A little hair of the dog, foul concoctions involving raw eggs and Tabasco. Worked through the medical approach, paracetamol, banana milkshakes, drinking a pint of water before sleeping. None of them, however, not a single, solitary one, had ever managed to make him hit sober as quickly as that one, short sentence.

Words that, without his even looking to take in the man speaking, he knew were going to be ones he would remember for some time to come. There was very little doubt that this was about to end exceedingly poorly. Very little doubt indeed.

Especially since the last time he'd seen the fuckers currently standing behind him, they'd been aiming a sawn off shotgun at the back of his limo…

_ Fuck _ .

Carefully, Eggsy took his time zipping his flies back up, deliberately keeping his movements slow and cautious as he took a steadying breath. Twenty one was too young to go, it just was. His mum would fucking raise him from the dead just to kill him again and god alone knew what Roxy was likely to do. He needed someone to know where he was at least, because leaving without telling anyone was starting to look like the worlds dumbest bloody idea…

The dawning thought struck him like the smack to the face he was undoubtedly about to get and as subtly as he could manage, whilst still making it appear to be setting his clothes to rights, Eggsy reached up and felt about at his chest. Thank god he'd not thought to take the bloody thing off. It had become so much a part of him, that hideous medallion and it's Kingsman logo, that he'd actually forgotten he wore it enough to sleep and shower with the thing still round his neck.

Just as bloody well, since it was likely to be the only way they were ever going to find his  _ body _ at this rate. Assuming Harry was professional enough to have kept the alarm code going to his phone...

Jesus christ, if he lived through this, he was never going to ignore Roxy ever again. Like...EVER again.

Swiftly flipping it open, he shoved his thumb into the button, feeling the little click of acknowledgement it gave before he tucked it back under his shirt and he drew one last, steadying breath, tilting his chin up as he turned around.

If he was gonna die in a disgusting alleyway, he was fucking well gonna do it looking the little shits in the eye and giving as good as he got...assuming he remembered any of the old moves his years of scrapping on the streets had taught him.

Either way, he wasn't going down without a fight.

“Alright, Carl. Still dealing third rate shit under rocks, then?” he managed, eyes flicking down to take in the various weaponry bulges in clothing in front of him and silently cursing himself again for coming out without even his little flick knife.

Ok, he amended, swallowing uncomfortably, it was going to be a  _ short _ fight, but a fight he would give them, all the same.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhh, I know, I left you hanging while I had to deal with real life and I'm sorry, lovely readers! Hopefully this makes it up to you!

Clearly, Eggsy woozily decided after what must have been the handle of something smacking into his temple for the third time in as many seconds, it had been too long since he'd last taken a beating this hard. Not that the thought was in any way a comforting one when you were being held down by two fucking rottweilers of men as the third one went to town on you with whatever was to hand. Still, though, he was reasonably sure it hadn't used to hurt this much.

Maybe that had been because then it had only been Dean and his drunken fists, for the most part at least, the odd scrap in a pub aside. Or maybe it was because back in the day, he'd been young enough for bones to bend instead of break? Whichever it was, he grimly decided, managing a slight twist of freedom enough to aim a well placed kick at his attackers bollocks, this felt decidedly different and not in anything like a good way.

The howl of pain Carl released after the boot to unsuspecting crotch was a fleeting victory at best, since the revenge back hand across the face  that rattled Eggsy's teeth and snapped his head around sharply was enough to make stars dance before his eyes for a second or two.

He was getting a little bit close to very,  _ very _ fucked here, no doubt about it. Alright, so for the first few minutes he'd been able to give as good as he got, but there were three of the vicious little bastards and only the one of him. The odds hadn't exactly been stacked in his favour here, and somewhat inevitably, they'd managed to corner him and pin him down so fucking  _ Carl _ could get his meaty fists involved.

After that, Eggsy had mostly been a blur of pain and getting in retaliation whenever they allowed it, which, sadly, had not been as often as he'd liked. Not nearly enough, either, for them to really be showing signs of much more than just getting worn out beating seven shades out of him.

It was a bit of a worry, all things in. Mind you, his face was starting to feel a bit numb, and then there was that burning agony of breathing thing...that...probably wasn't a good sign. Hopefully it all wasn't really going to be a worry for much longer since he had a sneaking suspicion he was about to pass out.

Curiously though, in the midst of his less than comfortable, increasingly lacking in consciousness haze of pain, Eggsy discovered himself dimly awaiting the next punch that just...never came. In fact, and he was very prepared to be proven wrong by a knife to the kidney at any point, it rather felt like he'd been dropped and was now making very good friends with the filthy floor.

Huh.

It was truly disgusting, of course, but given that quite a lot of the liquid he was currently lying in was probably his own blood, Eggsy decided to let it slide and attempted to crack open the one eye not swollen shut. He was probably going to regret it, but if he was about to get shot in some alleyway, he was fucking well going to  stare the bastards down as they did it.

That, or throw up.

Probably throw up.

Concussion too then, awesome, it had been a while since he'd been there and done that particular joy.

Still though, that eye had obeyed the instructions, even if a bit slower than usual, causing any and all concept of his injuries to leave him in a startled noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper at the sight before him. It wasn't a whimper though, and he would deny that to his dying breath. Which, conveniently, felt pretty close, so no loss to his dignity there or nothing. It was just that, in his apparently not lucid state, he appeared to be hallucinating. That  _ was _ a first.

Really there was no other explanation why, a few paces away from him, in a suit that should have graced the pages of GQ, stood Harry. Or rather a blur of Harry based shapes that Eggsy's battered brain was struggling to keep up with as the man brutally and efficiently beat the crap out of Carl and his little pets.

There was something truly beautiful in the ruthless elegance of a man that well put together being able to side step the poorly timed lunge of a kitchen knife with such ease. A variety of balletic glory playing out before Eggsy's one good eye in a way that, had his mouth not fucking caned, would have made him smile hopelessly. Harry, even the Harry his woozy brain apparently summoned in times of need, was fucking amazing and Eggsy let himself just watch. Head pillowed on the hard concrete as Harry did something majestic with a beer bottle that left the last thug crumpling to the ground in a bloody heap. Better yet, and as far as Eggsy was concerned, all of that little show was going to take _ some  _ topping, his new favourite hallucination came running back, dropping immaculate suit covered knees into the filth and reaching for him with bleeding knuckled hands,

“ _Eggsy? S_ queeze my hand if you can hear me? You idiot boy...you are not allowed to die on me, so squeeze my damn hand...” 

“...m'ok...” Eggsy managed, frowning around the bruises because the hand in his own felt very real, the one checking the rest of him over with delicate care did too, which was proper distracting when you were trying to die and shit! Fine, alright, maybe he should actually try and get his sorry arse up, then!

“Fuckin 'ell 'Arry...everyfin' on me 'urts...” 

“That tends to happen when you run off and get accosted by drug dealers in alleyways, darling.” Harry snorted, relief making his voice suddenly lighter and hands a great deal more sure of themselves as they traced every inch of Eggsy's exceedingly painful body,

“Do not even _attempt_ to get up. At the very least your ribs are bruised and there is a real likelihood of concussion.” 

“You... _rescued_ me...” Was the only thing that could possibly have escaped Eggsy's mouth at that moment and he grinned, split lip be damned, up at Harry's face. It took another second or so for him to manage one bloodied hand gleefully fisting in the crumpled, pinstriped lapel so that he could drag Harry down and himself up on a wince, meeting in the middle with a gore stained smile,

“Guessing you ain't gonna be leavin' again, eh.” The smirk he attempted was probably closer to Hammer Horror than seductive, but fuck it, work with what you got and all that,

“Ya kinda fucked yerself over for any more noble speeches about it bein' best we ain't together no more now ya know...what wiv the full on Disney saving me shit n all...”

Even with only one working eye and a hazy connection to both sobriety and consciousness, Eggsy couldn't have missed the knowing, altogether amusement filled look Harry cast him as a hand closed around the less bruised side of his face,

“There are easier ways to get me to say I was wrong.”

“Yeah, but this is proper fuckin' romantic innit.”

“You're going to make me put my back out and carry you to the car, aren't you.”

“Too right, mate! Full on Whitney shit. You owe me!”

Harry's long suffering sigh was rather ruined by the irrepressible grin that he was failing to hide and Eggsy gave himself a giggling moment to revel in the fact that not only was he not dead, but things were starting to look a great deal better than they had that morning.

Broken nose and fucked up body aside, obviously, because that was not going to be pleasant when he woke up tomorrow.

Any further concept of thought was removed entirely from his poor, battered brain when Harry moved and just... _ gathered him up _ like some damsel in distress, rising with only a hint of wobble at the extra weight he was suddenly carrying,

“All right you demanding little brat, let's go and get a doctor to look you over before you leak all over my poor suit.” Harry murmured, pausing to adjust Eggsy's dead weight and releasing a pained grunt at the movement,

“And preferably before I slip a disc...”

More than happy to let someone else take all the effort out of moving, Eggsy wriggled himself comfortable, draping his arms around Harry's neck with only a few painful winces of his own, already feeling the wooziness of concussion and adrenaline abandoning his system,

“Glad ya came back?”

“I wouldn't be anywhere else, darling boy.”

“S'good. Harry?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Fink I'mma throw up...”

“Can you wait until after you've smiled for the nice papparazzo about to turn you into Disney princess in photoshop?” 

“kay...M'proper arse over tit for you.” 

“I fear I rather am for you, too.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is complicated and sometimes it drags me offline for a while, but hopefully anyone still interested in this will be pleased to see new chapters and I apologise for the wait :-)

_**BRITS WINNER CAUGHT IN VIOLENT ATTACK** _

_After picking up his BRIT award just a few days ago, London star Eggsy found himself in the midst of what police are calling 'a violent assault' after a night out at an unnamed club. The singer songwriter had been out on the town when he was attacked in an alleyway behind the club he had been partying in. An eye witness, Kyla Martin, gave us this description of events:_

_'First I knew was when the whole place was swarming with coppers and when I went to have a look out the back, some lad was getting the **** kicked out of him by three blokes! It was well bad, mate!”_

_Reports of Eggsy's now infamous bodyguard, Harry Hart, causing substantial damage to his charges assailants are unconfirmed but photos emerging on social media this morning suggest he was certainly there to whisk Eggsy into a limo and away from the scene._

_Could this mean all is well again in camp Kingsman? After the recent upsets and that BRITS performance, we think there is definitely more than meets the eye going on, but are we about to get Eggsy's take on 'I Will Always Love You'?_

_Eggsy's new album 'Just us & the Sofa' was released today and features a bonus track of his BRIT awards performance courtesy of Kingsman Records. It can also be seen on the Kingsman YouTube channel. _

_**1063 Comments. Top rated replies:** _

_@dfssale_

_#heavybreathing_

_@suchaSHAMBLES_

_can anyone else not get over how eggs looks like a literal bloody child in this picture ???????_

_@RahelsFangirlDiary_

_OMFG I JUST FLIPPED WHEN I FOUND THIS PHOTO LIKE EGGSY AND HARRY FUCKING HART I CANNOT EVEN FUNCTION_

_@k.martinwzere_

_omg mi mum alwayz sed i wud b in da papr but 4 liftin or sum shit!!! xOxOxOx_

_@gottabeyokingme_

_< cry.gif>_

_me when i found this out ;_____; GET WELL SOON THE FAN CLUB WILL SEND YOU A PACKAGE SOON PLZ OPEN IT_

_@cindafella_

_So that Eggsy dont give a dam bout my heterosexuality! He be too beautiful for no reason. I can't even hate._

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_

 

_**EGGSY'S PRINCE CHARMING** _

_ A _ _ fter the attack on London Brit Award winner Eggsy at the weekend,  _ _ a _ _ midst a sea of photographs from social media, one question is on everyone's lips! Who is Harry Hart?  _

_ The  _ _ seemingly  _ _ unassuming bodyguard working for Kingsman Records appears to have captured the hearts and minds of the British public after he was snapped rescuing the star from a back street brawl last week, _ _ but knowledge of this mystery man is very thin on the ground. Rumours are running rife on his true relationship with Eggsy but one thing's for sure, any man who can wear a suit that well and princess carry his charge to a limo without a hair out of place gets our vote! _

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_

 

_**POLICE CONFIRM THREE ARRESTS MADE** _

_ In the wake of the much publicised attack on London BRIT award winner Eggsy, police have confirmed the arrest of three suspects to the  _ _ alleged  _ _ assault. A spokesman for the Metropolitan Police said: _

_'We can confirm that three men matching the descriptions of the assailants have been arrested and are currently helping police with their enquiries regarding this matter. We will not be releasing their names at this time.'_

_ Despite the Met's reluctance to identify the suspects, it has been widely reported that the three are associates of Dean Baker, the victims ex-stepfather, who was sentenced to fifteen years for a slew of drug and domestic violence based crimes three years ago. _

_This newspaper was told by an insider at Kingsman Records that the label intends to pursue the highest penalties for the assault and will also be launching a civil case against the three at a later date. The labels spokeswoman, Miss Roxanne Morton, gave us this statement:_

_ 'This was an unprovoked, violent assault upon one of  _ _ the  _ _ Kingsman  _ _ family _ _ and as a company, we will not tolerate anyone behaving in such a manner to any of our staff. Our legal team is currently dealing with the issue and further statements will be released at a later date.' _

 

_**EGGSY FANS TAKE TO THE STREETS** _

_ BRITS winner Eggsy's stay in an exclusive, private hospital has been helped along by a growing hoard of fans determined to make sure their favourite cheeky chappy has company!  _ _ Speaking to a member of staff today,  _ _ we were told  _ _ that there has been a steady stream of well wishers turning up outside the stars window, hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol and causing something of a traffic jam on the road _ _. The singer, 21, has been a patient at The London Clinic for the last five days following the brutal attack by three men after a night out, _ _ and fans have been arriving at the hospitals exclusive Harley Street location ever since. An insider at the hospital spoke to us today: _

_'It's been crazy here! They're all camping outside and keep bringing in all these flowers and presents for him, honestly, I've never seen the like!'_

_ Police have yet to comment further on the arrests made following the  _ _ events _ _ , but solicitors working for Kingsman Records are said to have pushed for the hardest criminal charges available and are currently launching a civil claim. _

… _ **Sign in to join the conversation…**_

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a twofer today, because I've been gone so long!

“If I find you out of that bed, Eggs, I will donate your fucking Playstation to Oxfam...” Roxy's voice filtered into the bedroom with enough vehemence that Eggsy hovered, one foot incriminatingly on the floor for a moment, caught in sheer indecision.

On the one hand, she would undoubtedly follow through on that threat and probably several other, rather harsher ones she'd been heard muttering over the last seven endless days. On the other, however, wasEggsy's innate inability to sit still for longer than a half hour at a time...unless he was thoroughly occupied or asleep, sadly neither of which was an option now, raising the issue to epic proportions after so long on bed rest.

The problem was that he was already in the doghouse following his little Houdini escape and, well, the week had essentially consisted of a long line of people queueing up to give him the sort of bollockings he'd not heard since his school days. Not that they weren't justified, mind you, because even Eggsy had to admit that in retrospect, it hadn't been his smartest of moves...but jesus christ! He could do with a break now!

If he were honest, and right at that moment, slinking back into his bed in a strategic retreat, Eggsy was feeling like honesty was probably the best policy all round, he'd got the message well and truly when he'd woken up in the posher end of a hospital. That bit hadn't really come as a shock, but his mum, tear stained and ashen, clinging to the bars on the side of his bed with white knuckles...well, that part still gave him uneasy moments.

He'd properly deserved the soundest tongue lashing he'd ever received that had followed. He'd definitely deserved a confused Ruby being sat on the edge of his bed, asking why his face was funny colours again and when Roxy had just stood there and looked at him with betrayed fury in her eyes...well. It was safe to say that the enormity of his fuck up had become very clear indeed.

Sadly, though, five days in an uncomfortable hospital bed with the distant sounds of his fans, who were apparently camping out in the street below, filtering up through the occasionally opened windows, had begun to take it's toll, once the tide of guilt had begun to ease. It was probably testament to how much his family and friends still loved him that despite his being a massive bell-end, they'd still allowed him to check out of the place and taken him straight back up to Scotland for the rest of his recovery.

Chronic boredom did not even begin cover the levels of crawling out of his own brain that had been reached since getting there, though. Not even close. Despite the best efforts of those around him to distract him with parcels from the fans and endless games of snap, Eggsy was starting to feel his grey matter turning to mush. More than that, even, he was dying to get out there and just... _run._ All day, preferably, for the hell of it, into the barren landscape of Merlin's country amidst the midges and angry bird life he'd been watching from the windows in three feet thick walls.

It wasn't even as if he'd had Harry in the sodding bed _with_ him! That kind of rest Eggsy would have been well up for, repeatedly, in fact, but no, there had been what he could only describe as an evil fucking conspiracy to cock block him at every turn! Worse still, _everyone_ in his family was in on it, including bloody _Harry_! Honestly, at the rate they were all going, they'd be lucky if he didn't die of blue balls long before any lingering effects of the injuries.

Still, without the Playstation his week would be reduced to watching Judge Judy and longing for it to be dinner time... _Fuck that_. Better to just behave himself and not have to face the disappointed looks that had thus far made his guilty, sorry fucking self very easy to keep in line.

 _God_ this month _sucked_ like a fucking Dyson and they'd only got to Scotland yesterday! What was it going to be like in another week or so, when, he grimly thought as he slumped back into the pillows, his brains had melted out of his ears and the rest of him was just a lump of bandage covered flesh?!

Luckily, just as he'd managed to settle into something like a fair approximation of a man behaving himself under strict medical orders, the bedroom door, which, apparently, was to be kept ajar at all times because he wasn't even allowed a _wank_ now...swung open.

Eggsy was many things in life; proud of all he'd achieved, solid in his belief that he had better lyrics and music to write, a snappy dresser. All of those, in fact, and more. What he was not, however, was in any way, shape or form, capable of keeping the grin off his face when Harry strolled in like he carried trays of snacks to invalids every damn day.

A mere week though it had been, everyone had been ridiculously busy and in Eggsy's case, mostly trapped amidst a sea of doctors he'd desperately been attempting to convince he was well enough to go home. He wasn't even going to think about when Merlin's shed in the back of beyond had become _home_ either. He was far more concerned right then and there with the fact that this would be the first real time alone he'd had with Harry since...well, _everything_ , really!

Curiously, it made a little raft of butterflies escape in his gut and for a moment, Eggsy just sat there, grinning up at the man who'd saved his hide and all at once made a wealth of Disney references come true for the fans. If he were being brutally honest, he was still slightly stunned at his own reaction. Love, apparently, made you an idiot. That was alright though, wasn't it, because evidently Harry wasn't faring much better, kicking the door shut behind him (Hopeful!) and pausing to run his gaze over every visible inch of Eggsy's mostly bandage covered body.

That last bit was really quite nice, actually. If he wanted to do that again, but this time with less _'thank god you're alive'_ and maybe a bit more _'I want to rip all that off you and do obscene things to you'_ in his eyes, Eggsy could actually grow to enjoy this bed rest milarky!

“I'm reliably informed you're not to be _overtaxed_...”

Eggsy didn't even bother to prevent the snort of laughter that presumably dire, Roxy created warning brought forth from him, shuffling over on the bed to make what he hoped was an inviting space for Harry to sit,

“Best be gentle with me then, eh, Prince Charmin'!”

It was worth the reference to Harry's least favourite newspaper headline so far just for the amused eye roll it got from him as he settled himself in to the bed. Over the covers, Eggsy noted with a huff. Bloody Roxy had clearly threatened him with bodily harm before he'd even opened the door, then. Typical.

“Frankly I think it should apply to me more than you, I doubt my back has forgiven me yet.” Harry was grinning, settling the tray across Eggsy's thighs even as he nudged a pillow up to support the poor body part in question and settled himself in. Legs crossed at the ankles and shoes unashamedly on the bed.

“I suggest you start with the popcorn, it was still warm when it left the kitchen.”

Handful of it already halfway to his mouth, Eggsy merely threw a cheeky wink across the gap he really wished wasn't there, an ocean of tartan patterned blanket between them,

“Feel like I should make a crack about other warm 'n salty things in my mouth, but I ain't sure even I could pull off something that crass...”

He paused, a thoughtful moue on his already popcorn tinged lips before with a light shrug the crunch of chewing continued, faux innocence writ large across his face,

“I'll give it a bash if I'm likely to get a kiss out of it though...”

It was worth it for Harry's amused snort. There weren't, Eggsy was swiftly realising, a great deal of things he would be unwilling to do to put that fond, slightly exasperated expression on Harry's face. That...well, it was probably quite the sign that you were arse over tit for someone, wasn't it, when you were willing to go all out from your sickbed just to bring a smile to stupidly handsome face! At least he was sure Harry felt the same now...which did rather beg the question of why it was they weren't currently jumping each other like teenagers round the back of the bike sheds!

The tray of snacks abandoned to the bed, Eggsy was on the wincing move before he'd really even considered it. Of course, it wasn't the most suave of his actions, what with the fact that everything ached and all, but still, he wasn't about to pass up the chance to sit astride that lap now the thought had occurred. Unsteadily, he shuffled over until he could plant a bracing hand on Harry's shoulder and watch the worried frown turn into something closer to rueful resignation as it's owner realised Eggsy's intent,

“You realise if Roxy walks in now, she's going to punch me first, purely because I lack a black eye already...”

“Yeah well, I owe you an arse saving, I'll protect ya!” Eggsy muttered, a light grunt of pain escaping as he finally managed to settle himself precisely where he wanted to be. The fact that Harry's hands had fallen to his hips somewhere in the process was just even more fodder for the ridiculous smile Eggsy knew his broken face was sporting,and he took a moment to enjoy the darkening of eyes watching him as he wriggled himself comfortable,

“You can't tell me it don't feel worth it...”

It wasn't a question, but evidently Harry felt it required a reply. One, achingly gentle hand lifting to the less damaged side of Eggsy's face, tilting it just enough that they fell together in what could only be described as the single most romantic kiss of Eggsy's life. There wasn't even much TONGUE and still it was just so fucking beautiful it took him a second or so to gather his brains back when Harry finally let him up for air.

“That answer you suitably?” The slightly rough edge to Harry's voice went straight to Eggsy's cock and he let out a little groan into the warm air between them, clinging to Harry's shirt like a lifeline.

“Dunno, give it another go...with less clothes mebbe...” he managed, still slightly giddy from all the blood that had previously been in his head sliding south at such an abrupt, unexpected rate,

“Might need to try it a few times before I can really tell...”

He never actually got to finish that half arsed sentence, breath still half drawn when Harry was on him and kissing him with a brain melting intensity that left Eggsy completely unable to do more than hold on for the ride. He'd been with men before, girls, boys, it had never really made any difference to him, but anything he'd previously experienced got tossed right out the window as Harry's tongue _thoroughly_ explored his mouth. Apparently the gentle edge he'd been demonstrating previously had left the building?! Presumably around the same time one of Harry's hands had slid round to knead at Eggsy's backside and put him right up against a body that was definitely as interested as Eggsy's own… because… _wow_.

“ _Fuck_...” Eggsy managed, hoarse and breathless when at last Harry saw fit to let him go enough to put a slither of air between them.

“Do not tempt me, darling boy...” Harry purred, dark eyes flickering back down to Eggsy's undoubtedly friction pink mouth before they rose once more, softening enough that Eggsy was left with no choice but to nuzzle into another kiss.

Wasn't his fault Harry was just that ridiculously fucking hot, was it!

Of course, it was that moment when a twinge of choking agony rose from his ribs, an ill timed twist of his body reminding him somewhat forcibly just what a fucked up state he was currently in and leaving him whining with rueful regret into Harry's mouth. Fucking typical, wasn't it! Everything he wanted on a plate, snacks included, and he was too battered to even take advantage.

Life, he mused with a dark frown, was an unfair bitch...epic, international fame, career in music, family and mates aside, obviously…

Alright, so maybe it wasn't all bad, but COME ON, Harry was right there and perfect and kissing him like lives depended on one or preferably both of them coming like a steam train...

“ _God_ , Roxy will quite rightly have my balls if I let this continue...” Harry murmured, disentangling himself just enough to press their foreheads together and draw in what Eggsy was deeply hoping was not a calming breath,

“But you are just… _so_...”

The hand on his arse relaxed as Harry very obviously reined himself in and Eggsy felt the resigned smile slide over his face at the inevitability of his defeat. Cock blocked again and she wasn't even in the room?! Roxy had some serious omnipotence skills!

“ _Tough_ , they're mine now...” he said, ridiculously soppy grin already spreading across his face. It was, after all, fucking tricky to be pissed off when he had Harry sat there looking like it was taking a supreme effort of willpower to keep his hands to himself. That was just a level of ego soothing shit that Eggsy wasn't even going to try and not revel in, thanks!

It was worth not getting another snog in just for the little snort of Harry's laughter and, utterly unashamed, Eggsy grinned back, settling himself down with a sigh. Evidently he wasn't going to get the hot and heavy he would have REALLY rather liked, but having Harry with him like this was...well, it was fucking aces, if he were being honest. It was nearly as good as the hopefully feral shag he'd apparently need to keep dreaming of a while longer yet...maybe…

“Are you sure you really want to tie yourself to an old man with a penchant for tailoring?”

The question, voiced as it was into the warm air in the smallest of gaps between them, seemed odd to Eggsy, given the circumstances. Then again, this was Harry and literally nothing they'd done thus far had been anything like normal so he probably should have expected the tentative look currently gracing Harry's kiss pinkened face. Still sucked though, whichever way you looked at it, that the simplest way to get shot of that lingering doubt was just not an option for them right then and probably wouldn't be for some time to come.

“Listen, mate...” Eggsy began, very carefully settling himself into a comfortable sprawl, the hand not cradling his own ribs lifting to curl around Harry's cheek,

“If it weren't for the fact that I'm currently a giant bruise, I'd already have given Rox the kinda eyeful she swears up and down'll give her nightmares, yeah? So if there's one thing I know right now, it's that you 'n me is a thing, an' it's gonna _stay_ a thing. For good.”

Under his hand, Eggsy felt the smile form on Harry's face, his voice a quiet purr,

“Well, since you're so very determined, you should probably know some things about me...”

“Yeah? Like what?” He replied, cocking his head just to see the twinkle lighing Harry's eyes a little better.

“I have shit depth perception, got shot in the eye, long story, probably best you don't ask Merlin about, actually. He's never really forgiven me for that one. Also my back is deeply discontent with my carrying you about and I drink rather more tea than can possibly be called good for me.”

As confessions went, it hadn't been what Eggsy had been expecting, but then...well, quite what he had been expecting in any of this he wasn't sure, so he gave up on attempting to find logic in it all and merely gave a sage nod,

“Well, if we're sharing, like...” he began, employing his very best thousand mile, deep in thought stare,

“I've got a fuckin' nutter for an ex-stepdad, a kid sister who thinks my songs ain't got enough fairies in and the road sense of a lemming. Guess we're both a bit shit at life, eh!”

“...I drove a tank into a lake once on a dare...”

“Jumped offa the roof of Tesco tryin' ta impress some girl. Three stories, broke me arm in two places, s'got a pin in now.”

“You could put some fairies into your songs...”

“You could wear your glasses more...everything can be made better, 'Arry, you just gotta wanna try.”

“Alright, you hopelessly attractive little shit, try we shall. Did you really jump off a roof to impress a girl?”

“Yeah, but then, I also ate a waffle from down the back of the freezers in Iceland n all, so...ya know. Gimme a cuddle, my fucking ribs CANE...”

“How are you even still alive?! Better?”

“Yeah, ta. You can talk, you drove a tank into a lake and got shot in the head! Least the waffle was alright, once the out of date nutella warmed it up a bit.”

“It's a good job I'm overly fond of you!”

“Yeah yeah, I love you too.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Eggsy is back and perkier than ever with his sensational third album and upcoming world tour. Vogue was given the rare privilege of an invite to the reclusive, legendary producer Merlin's home in the wilds of Scotland, where Eggsy is currently recuperating from the nightclub attack that left him lucky to be alive...and in the arms of his bodyguard on the front pages of every paper. We talk to him about life, love and growing up.**

**Photographs by Annie Leibovitz.**

**The low hanging, damp mist that seems to permeate the unassuming little pub we're currently holed up in is lending something of a poetic air to the photographs being taken. Eggsy, resplendent in neon green, Burberry print wellingtons and slightly damp tracksuit beneath well worn Barbour, looks disarmingly young as a result.** _**'It's been ages since I been in here!'** _ **he announces to the room at large, megawatt smile in full force,,** _**'Not since that Christmas do when I got paralytic and fell off the table!'.** _ **Even the taciturn landlord's lips twitch.**

**No one, it seems, can resist the Unwin charm.**

**Had the Eggsy at that party, we ask, realised quite what a year he was about to get into? It seems a relevant question given the still visible list to one side the singer has, a reminder of his many and brutally applied injuries received in an alleyway behind a London nightclub.**

“ _Nahhh...”_ **Eggsy begins with typical laissez faire attitude,**

“ _Can't never guess what's ahead can ya! Gotta just keep yer head down and crack on, yeah? Don't let the fuckers getcha down!”_

**It's the attitude that has undoubtedly kept Eggsy going through a career that thus far has reached astronomic highs and experienced the variety of lows only seen in the tabloids, but still, he seems a more relaxed, less frenetic version of himself. It's down to, he tells us with a cheeky glint in his eyes, his more stable home life. Something we don't doubt, since he arrived with merely the ever present shadow of his P.A., Roxanne Morton, a small dog he tells us belongs to her and Merlin, and the elusive Harry Hart, his now infamous bodyguard.**

**People, it seems, are important to him. A fact born out in the lyrical content of his third studio album,** _**Just Us and the Sofa** _ **. A lilting, pop-tastic love letter to his family and friends written with more than a hint of inspiration from the past.**

“ _It's an homage…”_ **He says, before breaking into a snorting giggle, ruining the carefully composed shot with a raised hand of apology, like a tennis player over a net call.**

“ _Sorry, I can't be saying words like that without sounding like a right wilf! Issa thank you, is what it is, a cheers for being there to everyone I love.”_

**Be there they have, too, some rather more than others and when we ask if there were particular inspirations, Eggsy throws us a brow raised look and fails to hide the ever present smile,**

“ _You been living under a rock, mate? Course it bloody is! S'all Harry innit.”_

**We're interrupted, if only temporarily, by the requirements of some stylist's touches to his face and clothing before the shoot continues and once again, we're reminded of just how young the self possessed man before us is. It seems a strange combination, the easy charm and wit wrapped up in a shell that steadfastly refuses to give up the trappings of his time before fame, but one that Eggsy pulls off with an endearing ease.**

**His favoured and indeed only, producer, Merlin, was once quoted as saying working with Eggsy was** _**'like walking into the eye of the hurricane and asking it to wipe it's bloody feet'.** _ **W** **atching the shoot unfold before us does indeed have a certain tornado like flair,** **too, since** **Eggsy is apparently incapable of sitting still, something, he tells us when we comment, is down to his old life,**

“ _Never had the chance, mate! Still don't now, least not often! The bed rest was a RIGHT 'mare, ask Rox!”_

**A swift glance over at the lady in question shows you quite how bad that situation must have been since we’re met with possibly the longest suffering sigh ever heard before the mask of professionalism is back in place. Miss Morton is, much like her charge, wise beyond her years, yet saying so gets merely a laugh from both parties.**

“ _We’s just kids titting about in a game we love, mate, ain’t no wisdom in that!”_ **Eggsy tells us with unflappable charm, despite an entire albums worth of lyrics** **under his belt** **that would discredit that statement** **wholly** **.**

**There’s a charming variety of humble pride in this small group of people. Something clearly born out in the lilting melodies and unashamed South London accent that Eggsy bounces through his lyrics with, but at the same time, the slightly mournful quality of past albums appears to have vanished. In it’s place, there’s a more honed, less jack the lad feeling that the man himself seems to have settled into in all walks of life. Is this, then, we ask him, Eggsy maturing?**

“ _Dunno really...”_ **he puzzles, the snap of a shutter capturing his thoughtful frown in breathtaking black and white,**

“ _S’pose it makes you think, dunnit? Getting the shit kicked out of ya when there’s actually something to lose? Ain’t like it were before, I never took a beatin’ like that an’ wondered if I’d ever get to tell someone I loved em, ya gemme? Used to just be thinkin’ I hoped me mum weren’t_ _the one to_ _find me, this time it were different.”_

**So is it love that saved him, then?**

“ _God yeah, wouldn’t never have started singing if me mum hadn’t loved me, wouldn’t be famous n shit if Merlin and Rox hadn’t loved me, wouldn’t be writing songs about forever if Harry didn’t love me. Love’s fucking aces mate, love makes the world go round, innit!”_

**It’s a hard sentiment to argue with when you see the happy proof, walking hand in hand with the man who saved his life, into the sunset on a Scottish moor!**

**Just Us & the Sofa is out now on Kingsman Records.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic....yeah. It rather stands as my hard earned lesson that sometimes, real life and fun time are not things I can do both of at once. I had intended this to have another chapter that was basically a smut epilogue, but with time not on my side, I'm opting to publish this and downgrade the rating to call this done. It's not my ideal ending and frankly this pairing deserve better, but sometimes circumstance means you just have to call it. Maybe one day it'll get the ending it deserves and should have had, certainly my beta readers would LOVE it to have the chapter added, so we'll see, but for now, this journey is done for me. Lesson learnt.
> 
> Also, just as an aside, all you other amazing writers out there, the ones who graft through shitty times and cling to this as your escapism, you, the real heart and soul of any fandom, learn from my fuck up, here, and know that if you start a thing and publish it as a WIP, you better finish it sharpish or someone else will.


End file.
